Immortal
by savedbygrace94
Summary: What will become of the Guardians when death slinks her way into their lives? "Revenge is sweet, and I always take out the weakest link first. By the time I'm done with you, you will learn to fear the shadows that fall in line behind your feet."
1. Chapter 1: Phantom Shadows

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.**

Chapter 1: Phantom Shadows

Night. Pain. Fear. Three simple facts of life that had once been so invigorating to Pitch's existence were now the only things that kept him alive. Run and Hide. Two words that describe his every waking moment since his defeat. Utter humiliation. One phrase that sums up the whole occasion.

His cloak of shadows had been destroyed; his very body unraveled by hundreds of nipping nightmare teeth. Only his spirit survived the attack, fleeing his body and taking refuge in the shadows where it stayed for twenty lonely years. He survived on the fear of prey, of mice being eaten alive by foxes and foxes falling before the wolves while he plotted his revenge on the ones who hung him out to dry for trying to steal a bit of the spotlight. He schemed and connived for hours on end, grinding shadow teeth that made no sound as he tried desperately to reform the body he had lost. But shadows don't like to be sewn— a fact that he discovered the first time he had tried to build himself a shell—and as weak as he was he was unable to force them to comply. So he hid his nakedness, his emptiness in the tarry shadows and bemoaned his fate. Until one night he heard a voice calling his name. Calling to _him_!

_Pitchhhh, _It hissed over and over again. The voice changed tone and frequency with every repetition, but the message was always the same. _Come and rest, poor creature. Come to me!_

He followed it, strengthened and intrigued (if not a little leery) by the belief of someone nearby. A trickle of blackened mist leeched into his shadow, sending shivers of power through him. He searched in earnest, risking the loss of his shadow anchors as he slunk from one tree to another, landing on the black tendrils that were his trail. They called to him with whispers, leading him to their master, drawing him into a clearing in the center of the wood. They fell silent when he arrived, beckoning him to approach with the swaying of their tendrils just as she did with her long, black-tipped fingers.

_Enter, Pitch Black. I have searched for you for quite some time. _

It was a young woman with hair as black as the raven perched on her shoulder that had led him here. Shrouded in a cloak that danced with ebony mist, she smiled a gentle smile with her blood-red lips.

"Welcome, Pitch," she crooned. Her eyes were black and deep, filled with an ancient hunger that the centuries themselves couldn't satiate. The ancient Celts called her the Mór-ríoghain and praised her as the goddess of war, strife, and sovereignty. Stunningly beautiful, she had spent epochs revealing herself to mortal men, offering them a strength in battle in return for their love, for their souls which she lusted after, before she found it easier to sustain herself by taking that which she craved. No longer praised, The Phantom Queen was feared as the taker of the lives of men and the bringer of brutal death.

Her regal mouth twisted into a grimacing smile. "Oh, dear, dear, spirit. The rumors were true. They really did leave you with nothing, didn't they?" White teeth flashed.

"Morrígan," The Nightmare King whispered in reply, holding a growl within him. "To what request should I honor this visit?"

"I come to offer help, old friend, and ask for some in return."

"I don't need your help, O Mistress of Phantom Fear. Only time to gain my strength and plan my revenge. As for whatever it is you ask of me, you can take a long draft off a short, balding bard."

Her laughter rang through the trees, unsettling the bird on her shoulder. "Oh, Pitch I always did love your wit. But I didn't come to banter. And I always get what I come for."

Pitch sighed and rolled his eyes. Wishing she could see the gesture. "What is it exactly that you want, Morrígan?"

"I want the same thing you do. To be recognized and exact the revenge on those who wronged me."

"Dear woman, who could have wronged a beauty as you?" The shadow dweller drew out his words, ringing them with condescension and a touch of sarcasm.

"Nicholas St. North."

Pitch perked up. Now that was a name that rang a bell.

"Do I have your attention now, sorry creature?" She asked, eyes flashing.

"For the moment."

"Good," she purred. "Because I have a proposition for you."

"I said I'm listening."

Morrígan's nostrils flared. "Tell me all I want to know and offer your…specialty services…and I will hand you your revenge against the guardians of childhood on a silver platter. Simple enough for you?"

"Impeccably," he drawled.

"Are you going to make me wait while you consider your numerous options or do I have the honor of receiving a reply, Pitch?

"I'll play for now, little goddess."

"Pitiful, Pitch," She grinned. "Still holding onto your tattered pride with both hands?"

"As if I have anything else to hold fast to."

She opened her cloak, revealing a gown of black satin that dripped with mist, beckoning him to her side.

"You can't be serious!" He moaned. "I am not a pet, dear heart. I don't come at your beck and call and I certainly will not cower in your robes like your captive hearts."

Ebony eyes rolled. "Release your vanity, Pitch. All gestures are purely business. You can come to my abode at your own pace, shadow by lonely shadow and find some cave to hide in at midday, or you ride along with me and rest in the shade of my cloak. Personally, I cannot think of any other way to get to Ireland by shadows than with their master. Oceans cast no silhouette, darling."

Pitch knew when to press a matter and when to concede and if he wanted Morrígan's help, he knew he had to allow her this one sliver of his remaining arrogance. So, with the help of a black tendril, he slipped within the folds of fog. He shuddered with the immensity of the power than ran through him when the mist pressed all around the shadowed remnants of his body.

"There now," she cooed. "I may steal what I want, but what I have I will gladly share with you. Rest and feed off the fear of freshly harvested mortal lives."

For once, Pitch did not shoot back a retort, finding it much more enjoyable to gorge himself on the fear than only death itself can bring. Hundreds of lives flashed before his eyes as he breathed in deep. The fear of mortal men across the ages filled him to the brim. Power surged through his body, allowing him to take a loose form.

"I feel an arm forming down there," Morrígan warned.

"Oh shut up."

"Thank you is a better reply, darling."

"Dream on."

"I shall, with a little help from you," She replied as they traveled across sky and ocean alike.

"Really? You brought me out of hiding so I could put you to sleep? I'd rather spend another twenty years in exile."

"Please," she snorted. "It's not my nightmares I need access to and it's to my benefit that you have the strength to help me plot against these children of the moon."

"I had forgotten what a drama queen you are."

"I would advise against insulting the one that carries you, but logic never was your style. No matter, just tell me all you have learned about the guardians. Starting with the frost child and his staff."

Pitch obliged her with a toothy grin as he felt legs beginning to form. By the time his tale had been sung, they had arrived at her palace on the western isles and the tentative beginnings of a plan had been formed. Pitch smiled as he climbed from her robes and settled into the shadows on her walls, feeding on any loose lives that strayed too far from their mistress.

They began phase one within an hour, Nicholas was long overdue a visit from his ancient lover.

**Thanks so much for reading! Review if you'd like! Chapter two will be up tomorrow :D**


	2. Chapter 2: A Midwinter's Nightmare

Chapter 2: A Midwinter's Nightmare

**Wow! Thanks so much for all the views, guys! Here's chapter two!**

Where we left off_:_

"…_No matter, just tell me all you have learned about the guardians. Starting with the frost child and his staff." _

_ Pitch obliged her with a toothy grin as he felt legs beginning to form. By the time his tale had been sung, they had arrived at her palace on the western isles and the tentative beginnings of a plan had been formed. Pitch smiled as he climbed from her robes and settled into the shadows on her walls, feeding on any loose lives that strayed too far from their mistress. _

_They began phase one within an hour, Nicholas was long overdue a visit from his ancient lover._

North sat in his great oak chair beside the fire, nursing a cup of warm milk. It was less than two weeks to Christmas and the first of only two occasions a year that he allowed himself these few seconds of silence. After more Christmas seasons than he cared to remember, the Cossack King decided that there were times his stomach just couldn't take the heaviness of eggnog and coco. Warm milk and a few moments of silence were the perfect prerequisite to a well-deserved rest and it remained the light at the end of the tunnel when the weather grew too violent for comfort or his back began to ache on Christmas Eve. But this simple drink, dusted with cinnamon and a few precious moments of emptiness before being thrown into his own festivities and preparation for the coming insanity was his saving grace, because for a few moments, he could simply cease to be, cease to bustle, and curl into himself before recharging and getting back on the horse. His yetis knew of this tradition and it was held as sacred.

The great man settled into the chair a little deeper and wiggled his toes in the thick woolen socks. The boots had been abandoned, the red robe of fur set aside. Even his scimitars sat in their sheaths against the wall while he favored his flannel sleeping attire and a thick blanket. Taking another sip of milk, he let the remnants of his twice-a-year treat remain on his white whiskers and welcomed the embrace of rest and the sting of memories long past but never quite forgotten.

~o:o~

Pitch scoffed at the sight of the Phantom Queen's lavish bedchambers. Tapestries of Cúchulainn and boar hunts hung from the ceiling, the stone floors spread with Turkish rugs. The bed itself was made of goose down and velvet, curtained with a thick purple fabric that was bordered in spun gold.

"What, no porcelain throne, excuse me, chamber pot, my queen?"

"Honestly, Pitch of the two of us you are far more archaic. I prefer to think of this as eccentricity not insanity and you would do well to embrace the world you were born from. Perhaps next time it won't vomit you up so violently next time you force your fear down it's throat."

"Says the woman who drinks soul barf to keep her face pretty."

Morrígan looked as though she were gearing up for quite the verbal battle when Pitch rudely shut her down with the raising of one, shadowed palm.

"How dare you—"

"Hush," Pitch sang. "The fat man sleeps."

"Finally." She drawled.

Pitch sent a grin her way so shadowed it went unnoticed. "He's dreaming of you."

A smile spread across Morrígan's lips. "How very convenient. Come Pitch and lets get this over with, big boy doesn't sleep for long." Morrígan stretched herself out on the bed and lent Pitch enough power to send her mind thousands of miles away to visit the dreams of Nicholas.

"I'll do my best to place you in the correct body."

"Well who else would I be?" She snapped irritably. "Does that mishap arise often?"

"It's more or less a rarity. Just play your part and deliver your message, I don't know how long I can keep you hidden for."

"Fine, fine. Just hurry up." Morrígan took a vial from her bedside table and drank it down. It would put her out long enough to do the job and keep her just deep enough under to dream and still keep her wits about her. As she felt herself drift away, she had just enough time to be thankful that her hearing went first so she didn't have to listen to another remark by the king of snark.

When she awoke she was in a forest on the west side of the Isle of Ireland. She felt the stinging pain of longing deep in her chest, and the stab of starvation curved around her middle and back with such force she vaguely wondered how much of this was North's doing and how much was her addition.

She remembered this time and place well. It was before she had begun to steal what she craved, and this was peacetime so her opportunities for love were limited. She had traveled deep into the wood in the hopes of catching one flighty young barbarian to promise the world in scalped heads to, but in her weakened state she had been unable to find anyone in time and had resigned herself to sinking into the void of utter desolation. Into the place of beings unmade.

The crunch of boots pulled Morrígan from her recollection. A young man in a red suit was crashing through the woods; his footfalls making the forest itself cringe. He stopped when he saw her and with sadness in his blue eyes he carried her to a clearing and set her down on a wooden sled that was laden with giant cedars. He called to his mounts by name, his accent so thick it made it hard for her to decipher the Russian. He was a Northerner to even the inhabitants of the ice shelf. His sleigh took off into the air, frightening her ever so slightly. It was hard to believe that this was all a dream.

They flew for what seemed like a few moments before landing at a long cabin in the Arctic Circle, though she knew the actual ride had taken hours. This was hundreds of years before North invented his ingenious little snow globes. Before she had even received her mist.

He handled her gently, asking her all the while what she needed help with in a stumbling, lurching version of Gaelic. She held back the urge to laugh at his attempts now. Playing her part like a true gem, she didn't speak until he had her on a straw tick bed beside the fire.

"A drink," she mumbled hoarsely. Her vision began to blur. _Hurry up, sweetheart, I can't keep ya there all day. _

She watched as the fledgling immortal ran about his home mixing up any drink he could think she might want, holding steaming mugs to her ashen lips. "No," she murmured. "From you." Morrígan pressed her lips against his, drawing from him a small bit of his life, his immortality. He gasped and pulled away, clutching at his chest.

"No, please!" She begged. "It won't hurt you, you're immortal, but I am linked to the life of others and I will die without it!" Even the small draft she had taken gave her enough strength to beg with him. He seemed unsure about it, but in the end he conceded to give her a small drink. As history would show, a meaningless kiss and a small draft soon progressed into a love bond that traded companionship for a taste of life-blood. Her drink would cost him his youthful appearance and many lives over many years wasted.

But Morrígan didn't have time to wait two hundred years, even in a dream. So she thrust her hand into his belly and changed him all at once. Gone was his cropped black hair and gentle smile. A bleeding old giant knelt in his place. She gripped under his rib cage and slid him forward. "Miss me darling?" She whispered into his ear. He gasped and coughed a wet, slopping cough. "Don't fret, my pet, I will come soon to pay you a visit. You and all the others you so fondly call your family."

Morrígan laughed as she felt herself begin to fade away. Before she disappeared all together, she kissed him once more and let go.

She awoke with a cackle, pleased with her lovely trick. If they were all as weak as North, this would be easier than she had anticipated.

"Well done," Pitch congratulated. "Now we wait and see if it works."

~o:o~

North awoke with a start, dropping his mug to the floor as he grasped at his stomach with both hands. Sweat had plastered his clothes and hair to his skin. He stood quickly and threw open the door, barreling past yetis who questioned him in their low garbling tongue.

Only one followed him out onto the globe platform and watched as he turned the key to call for an assembly of the guardians. He was still grasping at his stomach when the lights began to fly through the windows. The lone creature posed a question so low it could hardly have been heard.

"Morrígan is coming. I felt it _in_ my belly."

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Reviews make me write faster, so crank 'em out! Jack in the next chappie!**


	3. Chapter 3: If Only They Wouldn't Grow Up

Chapter 3: If Only They Wouldn't Grow Up

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the support, guys! Here's chapter 3, Jack included in this one **

** I do not own Rise of the Guardians or its characters.**

Where we left off:

_Only one followed him out onto the globe platform and watched as he turned the key to call for an assembly of the guardians. He was still grasping at his stomach when the lights began to fly through the windows. The lone creature posed a question so low it could hardly have been heard. _

_ "Morrígan is coming. I felt it in my belly."_

Jaime Bennett stamped his boots on the sidewalk, attempting to restore the blood flow to his very numb toes as he stabbed his shovel into the snow bank that used to be their driveway. Jack had been very busy this year. The young man smiled to himself and threw the load to the side before plunging the red plastic into the snow once more. He could hear Rachael in the condo, humming to herself as she put breakfast on the table, dishes clattering and the laughter of children harmonizing with her comfortable bustling.

Times had been hard since she lost her job, but he had put on a brave face and took extra hours at the office to cover their expenses. They had been forced to downgrade from their house to a condo, but it was better than an apartment. Or living with his parents for that matter. Poor Rachael held all the blame for their predicament squarely within her, refusing to allow Jaime to help her bear the burdens. So he resigned himself to helping her with anything else he could do when he was not at work, telling her he was so pleased that she could spend Christmas vacation at home with their children instead of having to send them to Grandma's house during the day while they were working and occupying his days off with chore lists, the most recent addition being the driveway to beat all white Christmases.

Jaime shook his head again and repeated the process of driving the shovel into the snow and removing the offending powder while trying to _preserve _the feeling in his feet. Drive, remove, stamp his feet. Drive, remove, stamp his feet. Drive, remove, stamp his—

_WHAM_

Powder and melting snow coated his eyelashes and eyebrows in a coat so thick he looked like father winter himself. Jaime jerked his head around to look for his attacker, raising the shovel to guard his face as another icy projectile slammed into the red plastic. Icy slop dripped from his knit hat and the man wiped at his eyes to clear them of the slush.

"I know you're out there, Jack," He called, eyes scanning rooftops and tree branches for the wiry teen. "Might as well come out now, I'll find you eventually."

"You work too hard, old man!" A voice called. Laughter danced across the wind.

"If you would take it easy with the snowfall, Frost, I wouldn't have to!"

"Come now, I'm sure Greg and Sarah wouldn't want a measly two inches to play in with their favorite winter buddy! Three feet is so much more…FUN!"

"Then you clear the driveway!"

"Spoil sport!"

"Scrawny spirit!"

"Old man!"

"I'm twenty eight, Jack, I think three hundred twenty eight would qualify you as the old man if either of us was."

Jaime rather heard the singing of another projectile than saw it as it slammed into his chest. He spun to the left, Jack could throw a wicked curve ball, but he was left-handed which made him rather predictable. But Jaime's searching eyes found nothing but snow and icicles. Another snowball made contact with the back of his head.

"Please," the teen said from his place atop the staff a few feet behind him. "If I'm anything it's _un_predictable." Mischief glinted in his blue eyes. Jaime couldn't help but smile.

"Still can't figure out how you don't fall off that thing," Jaime said with the grin still plastered on his face as he watched Jack hop down from the staff, his feet leaving only a slight indentation on the snow.

"It's all in the toes," He replied. "Now do you want this driveway cleared or not?"

Jaime took a step back and held the shovel out by the handle. "It's all yours."

Jack gave him a look and Jaime retracted the shovel. Jaime watched with mild interest as the teen planted his feet firmly at the head of the driveway and drew in a lungful of air, holding it in for a moment to build the drama as he eyed the snow with his brow furrowed.

"Really, Jack?"

"No," He replied and grinned. "But it would have been cool to see, right?" Jack slammed his staff down to the icy pavement below the powder. The wind whipped up quite a flurry, and within seconds the offending drifts were cleared enough to allow a car to pass through. He nodded in approval.

"What, watch you whistle up a wind? Clear my driveway with a puff of breath?" Jaime's eyes twinkled. "Come now, Jack. Let's be realistic here."

"Says the almost-thirty-year-old who still believes in the Easter Bunny," Jack scoffed.

"Good thing, too. Last I heard, someone iced his golems and he needed a touch of special belief to bring him from ready to murder to cursing the brat's name under his breath."

"Whoever did that should be ashamed of himself."

"Indeed."

"Indeed?! How old are you?" Jack wailed. "It's like talking to a professor or something!"

"Jaime!" A voice called from the window. Rachael was standing at the frame, a disapproving look on her face. "It's time for breakfast, come in before you catch a cold!" Rachael had often caught her husband talking to the wind in the dead of winter, a recurring event that had her worried for his sanity.

"Be right up!" Jaime yelled. He turned to a very smug looking spirit.

"Dude, you're so whipped!"

Jaime's face blanched. "I am not!"

"Whatever you say, kid."

"Grow a few inches then call me kid," Jaime called as he stamped his boots clear of snow on the rug in his doorway.

"Respect your elders!" Jack retorted as Jaime closed the door behind him with a grin. When Jaime had grown old enough to banter it had become a tradition of theirs. Jack didn't mind the change, there were still plenty of kids around to play with like he used to with Jaime, and it gave him someone to talk to. Tooth was too busy, Bunny was a grouch, Sandy's retorts were in pictures so the tone was lost, and North…well North just didn't get the jokes.

Jack spent the next solitary half hour building two snow forts and lining them with pre-made ammo. The first good snow of winter meant the makings of a fantastic snowball fight to the guardian of fun. By the time Greg and Sarah piled out of the house, screeching in their delight—with Jaime right on their heels—Jack had created quite the armada. He chuckled as Greg yelled a greeting before crawling behind the main wall of his fort. Within seconds snowballs were whizzing by and no target was sacred. Jack joined in the fun, throwing at whoever crossed his path (which included shoving two handfuls of snow down Jaime's hood), and defending little Sarah when Greg hit her too hard. Soon the other kids in the neighborhood joined in and a real fight began. Snowballs flew and children's laughter spun melodies with their squeals and the pattering of little feet in crunchy snow.

Once the other children joined in, Jaime stepped off to the side to watch. Greg and Sarah had teamed up and were holding their own against children up to five years older than they. Jack was another story. He was laughing like a child, throwing snowballs with no regard to alliances, pelting Greg one minute and a Margret from down the street the next. Finally, Jaime decided it was time to take the bringer of fun down a notch and pulled a group of kids to the side. They planned for only a moment before springing into action; Jack was known to bombard any few who were brave enough to gather together with snowballs.

Three children ran towards where the frosted kid was restocking the dwindling ammo for a targeted group, and before he knew it, mittened hands met bare feet and his little believers anchored him to the ground. Jack groaned as he saw too late what was coming his way. Pelted from at least five sides, Jack Frost got a taste of his own medicine.

"I'm hit!" He cried as he fell backwards into the snowdrift, glee glinting in his eyes. "Cruel children! You have no mercy!"

"Bury him!" Someone cried and twenty little mitten covered hands unceremoniously plopped handfuls of snow over the motionless boy until all that could be seen was the tip of the staff, a tuft of white hair, and a foot. Which someone promptly poked. Toes wiggled as someone giggled.

"Okay, Jack, you can come up now!" Sarah said.

"Jack is dead, come back later," Came the muffled reply.

"Jack is faking," Jaime cut in. "Dig him up!"

A few moments later, the hoodie-clad spirit was uncovered. Eyes closed and mouth lax, he really did look dead. Someone threw a snowball that hit him square in the face. He didn't respond. A little girl, no more than four, furrowed her little brow and scooted over to the hole.

"Wake up, Jack!" She said and poked his nose. He didn't move. "I said wake up!" She yelled, poking him again.

"If you keep digging, you'll strike gold," he murmured with his eyes still closed. The girl giggled.

"He's alive! Jack's a faker!" She said and jumped on top of him, landing squarely on his chest.

"Ooof!" He grunted and painstakingly picked her up and deposited her on the snow. "I remember when you would have just gone right through me!" He chuckled before realizing all eyes were still pinned on him. The little girl giggled and grins spread across faces as they waited to see what Jack would do. He sat up slowly, blue irises glowering into pairs of eyes set in faces ruddy with winter. "Yes, Jack is alive," He thundered, voice deep and foreboding. "But he is a zombie!"

Someone gasped in horror. "And you know what that means…." A whoosh of air shot the guardian into the air and he shouted at the top of his lungs. "ZOMBIE JACK IS GOING TO GET YOU ALL!"

Children screamed in delight and ran for cover as Jack drew his arms in tight to his body and dive-bombed the lot of them. Snowballs flew and laughter rang once more. Jack laughed with them, icing boots to the ground and skating on rooftops until mothers called his friends in for lunch.

Jaime hung back when all the children were inside.

"Zombie Jack? Really?" He asked with a grin.

"Yeah, well…it seemed appropriate," The winter spirit shot back. "After you conspired against me."

"Don't tell me the guardian of fun can't handle a little prank? Jack, I'm surprised at you!"

"I'll take you here and now, Bennett!"

"I dunno, I'm three hundred years younger than you, old man winter." The wind blew affectionately around them both, amused at their antics, but anxious as well.

"Let me tell you something, half pint—" Suddenly Jack stopped, his head jerking north. Jaime hushed.

"What is it?" He whispered.

"The lights are on," Jack replied. "North is calling a meeting."

Jaime shifted, unsure as to what he should be doing.

"I gotta go. Keep 'em occupied while I'm gone."

Jaime placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Be careful, Jack."

Jack grinned and let the wind lift him. "I'll be fine, _dad_." He joked and took off with such force it blew Jaime's hat clear off his head.

**Whew! That was a longer one! Shout out and tell me what you think of the story so far (plenty of Jack angst to come). Read, follow, fav, and review, all that stuffs! Chapter 4 out tomorrow!**


	4. Chapter 4: Got Any Jacks?

**Wow! I honestly didn't expect this story to get much attention! Much love and thanks to each and every one of you who followed, favorited, reviewed, or just read the story. Special shout out to fluddershy, rezzkat, EpicDetour9, and Guest for reviewing :DDD**

Chapter 4: Got Any Jacks?

Where we left off:

"_The lights are on," Jack replied. "North is calling a meeting." _

_Jaime shifted, unsure as to what he should be doing. _

"_I gotta go. Keep 'em occupied while I'm gone." _

_Jaime placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Be careful, Jack."_

_Jack grinned and let the wind lift him. "I'll be fine, dad." He joked and took off with such force it blew Jaime's hat clear off his head. _

Jack eased up on his speed after Burgess was out of sight. He liked impressing Jaime, even if he was no longer a child, but going that fast wore him and the wind out if he sustained it for too terribly long. Jack supposed it was like that with many of the facades the guardians put on for their beloved children.

Jack flew faster for a few miles and made it snow hard for a few moments to make them smile. Tooth didn't collect all that many teeth, only visiting a special few and allowing her minis to do much of the running. North's elves didn't make the toys, the yetis did. Bunny wasn't even a rabbit; he was a sorry cross between a wombat and a kangaroo. Jack grinned to himself. Before there had been anyone to listen to him, he would smile at his own wit and laugh as though he were with another person. He supposed that was what many lonely people did. His only interaction with other spirits had been abuse, scolding (many times warranted and a few not), and the occasional prank. The wind tossed him upwards, catching him on its lower reaches to bring him back to reality as they began to merge slowly south, towards the warren. The wind had the uncanny ability to sense when Jack wanted to prank the rabbit.

"No, we have to go to the pole," Jack corrected. "We can hit up the kangaroo later. Freeze the purple river or something, alright?"

The wind righted him and gave him a push in the right direction. Jack chuckled lightly. He could almost imagine feeling the wind's arms tighten around him in an embrace. He had spent many lonely nights cradled in the grasp of the north winds before Pitch's uprising. He was a good and faithful friend even if he did have less of a form than even Jack. Probably even less than Pitch, wherever he was. Even so, the wind was the only entity that Jack allowed to manhandle him. Everyone else had adopted the unspoken rule of keeping their hands and affections to themselves.

As Jack began to think on the handful of times the guardians had made physical contact—and the subsequent hours they spent in front of a fire thawing out—he was pulled from his musings by a scream that ripped through the frosty air. Spine straight, hair standing on end, he halted and scanned the forest below for the creature that made the sound. He saw nothing, but another cry sent him diving headfirst to a particularly dense crop of trees.

He landed in the snow with a soft crunch, his sparse weight doing little more than slightly compacting the ice crystals beneath his feet. Another scream followed by a string of pleas slurred by tears jerked his staff to the left. He ran on light feet, eyes wide and searching.

_No human should be out this far into the wild territories._

Jack searched for ten horrific minutes; changing direction with each scream that seemed to be so close he could touch its maker. He called out to them, knowing in the back of his mind that they could not hear him. No one would hear the cries of a frost child. But he called all the same, at least so he could feel like he was offering some hope. Whether for him or for the object of his searching he didn't care.

He was so engrossed in following the screams he forgot about the Northern Lights that spanned the skies. Forgot about returning to Jaime. Forgot to check behind him as the shadows stretched towards one pale ankle.

He remembered when, with a yelp, the shadow latched onto his ankle and pulled it out of under him. He landed in a snow bank no worse for the wear and shot ice at the shadow that still held him in its grip. He heard a shriek as the cold made contact and kicked at the frozen chunk of black to shatter it so he could run. His foot was bleeding, some of the shards of solid shadow embedded in his skin from breaking it so violently. He ran until he heard the screams again, this time to his left. He veered off towards it, keeping a wary eye on the shadows that chased him.

He pulled up short when he reached a clearing. There was a woman lying in the center of it, just far enough away to be out of reach of the shadows. He dropped to his knees beside her and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder to calm her sobbing. Shrouded by a cloak, she tensed as his hand made contact with her back. It didn't go through.

"What…"

Jack gasped as the cloak was thrown away and a mist that reeked of death swarmed around him like a nest of hornets. The mist made its way into his nostrils, his mouth and he coughed against it. "Help!" He cried as his chest began to cramp and clench tight. It was all he could do to keep a hold on his staff as he stumbled backwards.

"Wind!" He wheezed. "Help!" He was too weak to command the wind, but it came when it heard the desperation in his voice. Wild as it was, the wind loved its frost child. The wind lifted him a few feet into the air and he curled in on himself, trying to keep a hold on the piece of wood. But the wind couldn't carry him too high and it didn't understand the nature of shadows. Jack didn't begrudge him that; the wind had no shadow and only the best of intentions. The shadows, on the other hand, were not so forgiving. His staff was snatched from his grasp by the dark cousin of a particularly tall pine and with a yelp Jack plummeted from the sky.

The wood was too dense here for much snowfall to make it to the ground, so when he landed it was to the tandem of a resounding crack of ribs. A cry caught in his throat, Jack lay still until the air found its way back into his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could hardly think, and couldn't fight back as the shadows sucked him in.

**A/N: Poor Jack! Thanks for reading, please drop a review in the box on your way out! Chapter 5 out tomorrow!**


	5. Chapter 5: Dreams Are Dangerous Things

Chapter 5: Dreams are Dangerous Things

**A/N: Wow! Thank you all for all your support! I'm so sorry I didn't post yesterday, I had every mind to but it got too late and I ended up sleeping instead of posting :( Anyways, here's chapter 5, special thanks to DragonsFlame117, rezzkat, and Epic Detour9 for their wonderful reviews.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians**

Where we left off:

_The wood was too dense here for much snowfall to make it to the ground, so when he landed it was to the tandem of a resounding crack of ribs. A cry caught in his throat, Jack lay still until the air found its way back into his lungs. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could hardly think, and couldn't fight back as the shadows sucked him in. _

North paced in the great globe room, kicking up dust with the shuffling of his feet from the rug that really could have used a good beating. Four of the five guardians were gathered and not quite happy to be so. Most of their irritation was directed towards their youngest member who was characteristically late. The teenage hellion of frost rarely held to anyone's schedule but his own, and that was subject to change on a whim.

"Maybe we should go search," North mused to himself. "He 'ees not normally late this long."

Bunnymund scoffed. "North, e's always this late. 'E might not even show this time, so why don't ya just tell us why ya brought us here so we can get on our way?"

" 'ees important that Jack hear too,"

"Then someone can fill 'im in later."

North sighed and stopped pacing. "I suppose so," he said as he turned towards them. "You know of past of mine, of mistakes. It was you who rescue me from them. I fear they come back now."

"Who's coming back, North?" Tooth pressed.

"Morrígan visited last night."

"What?" Bunny shot up out of his chair, abandoning the egg he was painstakingly designing. "That Gaelic witch was here?"

"She came to me in dream."

Bunnymund's jaw dropped. "Ya mean to tell me ya called us all here because of a nightmare? Ya pulled me away from my preparations and Tooth and Sandy from their duties for an apparition of ya overworked mind?"

North's face grew red. "Christmas ees in two week, Bunny. If anyone be worried ees me. It was no ordinary dream."

"Oh, let me guess, ya felt in in ya gut again? Is that right?"

"Belly was not wrong last time, Aster."

"Ya belly just probably had too many sweets before ya conked out."

"But I was drinking warm milk!" North persisted.

"I don't care what ya were drinkin'!"

In a flash, Tooth was pushing Bunny back towards his chair, calming his yelling with a pat on the shoulder and murmured pleas to settle down and think rationally. Sandy just threatened to put North out again for a few hours if he didn't calm down. But the Russian had a dislike for being told to quiet down, and the silent pleas of his little friend did nothing but make him louder. Sandy popped him one right between the eyes, dream sand dust from his fingertips falling into North's eyes. The big man staggered backwards and collapsed into a high backed chair, unconscious within seconds. The two neutral parties spent the next few moments trying to calm Bunnymund down enough to listen to reason. He had worked himself up into quite a tizzy. He was still grumbling about his multiple complaints, cursing North and his insistence that Christmas was more important than the holiday that celebrated new beginnings when all he did was disrupt all their lives when it was clearly even inconvenient for him. He was so insistent that North was off his rocker Sandy actually had the urge to screen the man's dreams, something he refrained from doing during the few moments that any of the guardians slept with the exception of Jack whose happy dreams Sandy felt were his responsibility to give. Morrígan hadn't shown her face for nearly nine hundred years, for North to suddenly begin dreaming of her could indicate a stress release problem or something worse.

The golden man placed his hand on the white head of his old friend and closed his eyes, the images of the dream seeping into him through his touch. He kept it from being projected; the others didn't need to see the nightmares of Father Christmas. Images flashed in front of his eyes: a one room cabin slowly being remodeled into the splendor that would one day be Santoff Clausen, an immortal with joy and wonder in his eyes as he held his raven-haired companion. He was much older in appearance than in his first memories, his hair had become streaked with grey and his eyes began to show the signs of the feet of the crow that the she-witch carried on her shoulder.

Sandy watched as time and time again his friend gave a little more of his precious gift to the pretender, watched as she leeched his life, watched as she suddenly turned on him and shoved her long, black tipped fingers into his belly. Silently cried out in horror as he saw the fear in the man's eyes and elation in hers. Watched her lips move as she drained him and promised she would be back soon to take all he loved.

He watched as her slender neck swiveled her head in his direction as a smile spread across her lips. "Welcome, Sandman," She purred, letting the convulsing man in her grasp drop to the ground. Her hand glistened with blood. "I was so hoping you would be dropping in on us soon. Nicholas could use a friend at a time like this. Poor creature."

Sandy's head was whirling. No one should be able to see him when he peeked in on dreams. He wasn't really present in them therefore he couldn't be a player. It was like he was sitting in a theater and the actress had just addressed him by name. But Morrígan had never been one to leave anything to chance so she took it a step further: she dug her fingernails into his stomach too.

Sandy gasped and gripped her hands in his. He felt the pain, _saw_ the blood on her fingers, heard her cackle as he began to close the dream off and reenter the real world.

"Don't worry, Sandman, Nick has not been harmed…yet. But rest assured a few nightmares are only the beginning. He belongs to me and it will take a lot more than a dream sand bi-plane to take me down.

"Now I have something of yours and I would like to arrange a meeting to haggle over its worth. All of you may attend; believe me I will leave without a scratch if you have gained any wisdom since we last met.

"Oh, and Sandman," She called as her face began to loose focus. "It's not smart to stay on the edge of sleep when dealing with death. Sometimes dream world injuries can enter the real world." Before he could stop her, she slashed her long nails against his cheek, leaving long, unfilled lines in his golden skin. "Meet me tomorrow at dawn in my forest clearing. Ta for now."

Sandman closed off the dream portal, taking in strong breaths of air as both he and North reentered the real world. The man was drenched in sweat, his hands over his stomach. Tooth and Bunny both gasped and released their hold on their friend.

"I saw…" The fairy stuttered. "When I touched you I saw it, Sandy."

"Me too," Bunny gulped. "Reached for Tooth and the connection spread."

"So now you know," North spoke up from his seat. "I meant it when I said we in trouble."

"I felt her nails," Tooth admitted quietly. Sandy reached up and touched his cheek with gentle fingers. Loose flakes of sand came away on his fingers, crumbling in his grasp. Four neat gashes lined the dust on his cheek. Tooth and Bunny both had a matching set. Distraught, they sat in silence for a few moments. It was not the wounds that bothered them so, they would all be healed within a few hours, it was the message Morrígan had delivered and the influence she had. She touched them all with one dream link and had set the terms for their meeting as if she had them all quaking under her thumb.

"So do we go?" Tooth asked.

"No!" Bunny cried. "Whatever the Sheila has its not worth a brush with death."

"Bunny ees wrong," North replied, his fingers kneading the flesh at the back of his neck. "She knows where to hit hard, but there ees four against one, she will loose just like always."

"Five," Tooth peeped. "Jack will be sure to join us."

Bunny scoffed. "Oi, if 'e didn't come for the meetin, why would 'e come for the fight? This 'as nothin to do with 'im, 'e won't want any part in it."

Sandy shook his head and created an image of Jack coming to their aid when they fight. It was a picture of loyalty and family, two things Aster wasn't sure the frost kid understood.

"I'll tell my fairies to keep an eye out for him tonight and Sandy can search while he's sending the dreams. Maybe we can find him before dawn," Tooth suggested lamely. They had no choice but to agree; Jack didn't carry a cell phone.

**So, I have a challenge for you faithful readers, If I can get fifteen reviews by ten o'clock tonight, I will post a SECOND chapter today, and believe me, the next chapter is not one that you're going to want to wait for ;D **


	6. Chapter 6: Everlasting Meal

**Wow! ****Cries***** You guys completely blew me away with nineteen reviews! I smiled as I read each and every one of them so a gigantic thank you to: control of chaos, EpicDetour9, N.a. Brun (whose four reviews forced my hand to write this chapter), rezzkat, JulieBeilschmidt, druidgirl, DragonsFlame117, Guest, and fluddershuddy for making this happen. You guys are great!**

**So, without further ado, chapter 6. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. Jk Rise of the Guardians. **

Chapter 6: Everlasting Meal

_Where we left off:_

_Bunny scoffed. "Oi, if 'e didn't come for the meetin, why would 'e come for the fight? This 'as nothin to do with 'im, 'e won't want any part in it."_

_Sandy shook his head and created an image of Jack coming to their aid when they fight. It was a picture of loyalty and family, two things Aster wasn't sure the frost kid understood. _

"_I'll tell my fairies to keep an eye out for him tonight and Sandy can search while he's sending the dreams. Maybe we can find him before dawn," Tooth suggested lamely. They had no choice but to agree; Jack didn't carry a cell phone._

Sandy and Tooth searched all night for Jack before deciding he had probably whipped up too big of a storm and was sleeping off his exhaustion in a snowdrift somewhere. He did this often enough for it to be a plausible excuse and they really didn't have the time to worry about him. There was a greater danger lurking about.

In the early hours of the morning they returned to the pole, and, after preparing for a short time, transported in the sleigh to the middle forest of Ireland using North's newest creation—a snow globe that could be reused over and over again. It was eerily quiet when they arrived, the sky dark and streaked with pink. Not even the birds bade them a good morning.

"Where is she?" Tooth whispered, wings flitting about nervously. She couldn't help but remember how many feathers she lost the last time she and Morrígan crossed paths.

"Waiting for right moment," North replied, his eyes alert. "She ees sly creature."

"She's a witch an' nothin, more. A sorry druid too long forgotten. She's as powerless as they come, North, you jus' wait an' see."

"Now, rabbit, that was unkind," A voice rang through the clearing.

Every creature of light tensed at the sound.

"Show yourself, Morrígan!" North cried.

"Darling, really. Calm down, I'm right here," A dark form slunk from the shadows. "You look positively terrible." She grinned.

Bunny could practically hear North's teeth grinding from his vantage point on the other side of Sandy.

"Not looking so good, yaself, are ya, witch?"

The smile dropped. Wrinkles were beginning to droop from the corners of Morrígan's eyes. "Care to help me with that, Rabbit? Or shall we let my beloved do the honors? Come on then, North, give us a taste." She grinned wickedly.

"We came here to negotiate, Morrígan, not have a buffet," Tooth spat.

"Well maybe you did little bird, but I, on the other hand, am looking at a Christmas feast."

"Back off!" Bunny growled.

Morrígan took a step back. "Fine, fine." She held her hands up in submission. "Right to business then."

"There ees nothing you have that can hold against us. We are immortal, you live in shadows. You on our turf now."

"Oh, North, I beg to differ. You're on mine and you have no idea how much leverage I have." A smile curled around Morrígan's lips and she curled her long, bony fingers in an inviting gesture towards the treeline. At her signal, the shadow of the nearest tree began to grow, stretching thin so that it could reach her. A hand emerged from the form and reached inside its center. When the hand emerged again, a long crutch was in its grip, shadowed darkly.

"As you wish, Mór-ríoghain," The form whispered, its voice as dark and weak as its form.

"Thank you, Pitch," Morrígan purred. She turned back to the four before her. "After his defeat, Pitch was reduced to this pitiful state. I took him in and he has made quite the partner. With time and power, he will be returned to his former glory. Till that time the Shadow King will rest in his shadows. But enough of the formalities, we can convene for the meet and greet later."

Morrígan took the crutch from Pitch's grasp, pulling to make the shadows separate, and held it into the light. "Look familiar?"

The stick in her hand was not a crutch; it was Jack's staff.

"What have you done with Jack?" North thundered, his fear dissipating in rage.

"Who? Oh the frost child. He's unimportant now. This staff is all that matters."

"Just give us boy, Morrígan. We'll deal after we have him."

The woman raised her brow, the mist of black shifting and swirling as she moved forward. When the mist advanced, the ground beneath groaned as the grass shriveled and died. "So much power lies in the stick I hold in my grasp, so much potential. Yet you still ask after the empty slab of flesh that was gifted with it? The boy had three hundred years to further his gifts, mature, yet he remained the same. He was worthless. His power is all contained here."

With a savage cry, North rushed her, scimitars raised.

Morrígan looked bored as she lifted the stick again. In her grasp, the blue tendrils that intertwined with the aged wood had turned black. She struck the ground forcefully and the black mist surrounding her rushed out creating a barrier two yards wide between her and her adversaries. Tooth flitted about nervously as North stopped just short of the deadly mist. Another, gentler tap lifted her and the cloud up a few feet into the air. It was a far cry from the ease with which Jack rode the winds, but no one other than him had been able to utilize any of the staff's power before. Not that Jack gave them many opportunities to try.

"I would have thought you would be pining after this power, this protection. But instead you want him. How childish!" She laughed for a moment before her head swiveled back. "Pitch, darling, bring out the frost child."

The Shadow King chuckled softly to himself as his shadow vessel rose to stand on its own and began to grow. Black ethereal hands separated and stabbed into the murkiness as it had done to retrieve the staff. The hand brought out a pale figure bathed in black, the fingers of shadow sticking to him like suction cups, separating from his body only by force. Jack took a gasping breath when they separated from his face. Pitch dropped him unceremoniously on the grass, his breath still coming out in gasping jerks.

"Jack!" Tooth exclaimed and rushed forward to his aid. Bunnymund grabbed her and pulled her back. If she hit the black mist she would be no use to them in the fight that would undoubtedly ensue.

"I'm alright," Jack called out, cringing as his ribs were jostled, his eyes on the staff in Morrígan's grip. His vantage point was more advantageous for retrieving it than the others. He stood, looking for a way to climb to her pitiful height. It was nothing compared to his flight, but a story and a half is a big jump.

North caught his stare and shook his head. You don't gamble a jump like that with death herself as an adversary.

"What you want for boy, Morrígan?" North called. "He's all we want."

"Oh this is delicious!" The woman crooned, her long black hair whisping around her face. "Your new snow globe, North. For a start of course. I might be collecting for quite a while. The rest of you are useless to me at the moment."

"Done." North quickly replied and took the trinket from his coat. He threw it up to her and she caught it lightly in one hand. Pitch's eyes locked on the Sandman.

"Shadow Queen," Pitch whispered earnestly. "Might I have a bit of sand?"

"Oh, Pitch, honestly. I don't know why you're so hung up on teeth and sand. Both are about as useful as Frost, here."

"Then the gift is negligible, is it not?" He persisted. To feed submission and exultation to a superficial, elitist creature such as the Celtic spirit was like bating a tiger, but it was effective.

Morrígan sighed and rolled her eyes. "And some dream sand if you will, Sandman, for my thick headed companion."

Sandy quickly complied as well, sending a stream of his golden sand towards Pitch. The shadow shied quickly from the stream until it stopped before circling round it delicately, careful not to let its light interrupt his shadow anchor. The shapeless palm peeked out and dabbled in it, turning it as black as he was. After it was infected, he drew it up into one of his nightmares, hiding in its shadow.

"Thank you, darling," he hissed.

"Pitiful creature," she said, her brow furrowed. Wielding the staff once more she sank to the ground, bringing her mist in with her. She let the fearling nuzzle her fingers for a moment. "Though I must say, your ingeniousness with this medium astounds me still. She's a beauty, Pitch."

"Thank you, darling," The Shadow King replied. "At your back!" He hissed, seeing Jack lunge for the staff. Morrígan turned and scoffed when she saw his fingers clutched around the wood. He gave it a yank and the black wrapped itself around his hands, anchoring him to the very piece he yearned for. He pulled again, trying to free himself.

"Now, now," Morrígan whispered with eyes wide, "It's not nice to take things that aren't yours anymore, frost child."

Her hand shot out and clamped around his throat. She pulled him up and slid her delicate little nose across his neck. "Your scent is delicious, Jack Frost." She whispered and shifted him up so that his mouth hung below her lips. "I think I need a taste before you go." Her grip tightened around his throat, her black fingernails clawing into his jaw, clenching something in his core. Suddenly her grip on his windpipe slackened and she dug her nails into his jawbone, forcing his mouth open.

"Morrígan…" North warned.

"Now be a good boy and hold still," she whispered before placing her lips on his. Jack gasped, something deep inside him clenching and cramping, liquefying as it trickled up his throat. Morrígan drank hungrily; sucking his immortality up in pulls so large Bunny could see the boys' throat distending to accommodate them. Her wrinkles began to smooth.

"Stop!" Bunny roared. "You're killing 'im!"

Morrígan pulled back, the tendrils of his life bridging the gap between their lips. New life glistened in her eyes. Jack clamped his mouth shut, breaths hurried and pained through his nose. Morrígan licked her lips, drawing in the last of the frosty draft. Her breath came out in chilled puffs.

"I'll admit I was wrong about you, frost child. Your inner strength is worth something after all," she smiled at him. "An everlasting meal." She pulled his head forward again and molded her mouth around his, forcing his lips apart. With a cry she pulled back and drew her lip into her mouth. Blood glistened on her teeth from his bite. Jack jerked back his hands, hoping to tear away the staff from her grasp. Seething in anger, Morrígan tightened her grip on the wood and in one smooth motion released his hands and stabbed him through the belly. Jack gasped, his eyes wide. The hilt of his beloved staff was buried in him almost up to the crook, the shadow tendrils latching onto the wound as they had his hands. Her grip on his neck was the only thing holding him upright. Somewhere past the ringing in his ears he heard a sob as everything began to go numb.

"My drink may not kill you, Jack Frost, but your staff surely shall." Morrígan jerked out the staff at an angle, ripping open the wound, and threw him to the ground. She turned around and stalked off, a cackling Pitch and his lone nightmare on her heels.

**O_o Oh no evil cliffhanger! Poor Jack! I guess you'll all just have to wait until tomorrow to read what happens *****grins evilly* Thanks for reading, following, faving, reviewing, and all that fan fiction entails. Please kindly drop your reviews in the box on the way out. See you all tomorrow!**


	7. Chapter 7: Miles To Go Until You Rest

**A/N: Glad you liked the chapter! Special thanks to: DragonsFlame117 (here's more :D), EpicDetour9 (Holy Halibut, Robin I loved your review style!), rezzkat (feel better and glad you like my very evil OC! Check out my sister's Les Mis story, "On My Own" by caligirl99), and fluddershy (so sorry I messed up your name, I was in a tizzy trying to get it posted and screwed up _) Gosh, this authors note is wayyy too long, sorry. Here's the story now lolz**

**Disclaimer: I don't own ROTG**

_Where we left off: _

_Seething in anger, Morrígan tightened her grip on the wood and in one smooth motion released his hands and stabbed him through the belly. Jack gasped, his eyes wide. The hilt of his beloved staff was buried in him almost up to the crook, the shadow tendrils latching onto the wound as they had his hands. Her grip on his neck was the only thing holding him upright. Somewhere past the ringing in his ears he heard a sob as everything began to go numb. _

"_My drink may not kill you, Jack Frost, but your staff surely shall." Morrígan jerked out the staff at an angle, ripping open the wound, and threw him to the ground. She turned around and stalked off, a cackling Pitch and his lone nightmare on her heels. _

Chapter 7: Miles To Go Until You Rest

Tooth was the first to reach Jack. Her mouth was drawn with worry, her violet eyes hidden behind a haze of tears. He lay on the ground on his side, his grasping hand the only thing that was moving.

"Jack…" she murmured and ran her hand through his hair, putting her other one in his beckoning grasp. His hand closed weakly around hers and his eyes rolled up to her face. Blood was seeping through his hoody, the rip in the fabric hinting at the damage underneath. His eyes were glazing over as the blood continued to flow.

"No, no, no, don't do that," she said, flitting forward to rub his arm in an effort to keep him awake when his eyelids fluttered. North pushed past her and dropped to his knees. Without speaking he slipped his hand under Jack's hoodie and felt the wound in his back. Cooled blood slipped over his fingers, mingling with the stringy black ooze that had broken away from the staff. When North removed his hand, a few of the black, blood-covered discharges came with it. He wiped his hand off on the grass and watched in horror as the grass died. Tooth continued to stroke Jack's head, intent on bringing him any small amount of comfort she could manage.

"We have to get him back to Pole." North said slipped his now bloodstained hands behind Jack's knees and under his shoulder blades. The thin boy rolled easily into the Cossacks' arms, his expression unchanged by the movement. His eyes stared forward unwaveringly and his lips were tinted blue. Whether from Morrígan or from his wound North didn't know, but it was not a good sign. North stood slowly and walked towards the sleigh.

"North," Bunnymund said and placed a hand on the massive shoulders. His voice was hoarse from the shock. "Let me take 'im, the tunnels are much faster than the sleigh."

North replied without turning around and continued his careful trek to the sleigh. "No. You have to walk to not jostle him and that would take longer. Sleigh is safer."

"But, North!" The Pooka protested. Sandman's hand on his shoulder quieted him. Sandy shook his head and gave Bunny's shoulder a quick squeeze before floating over to join North and Jack. The Russian carefully laid the frost child out across the plush back seat and without a word climbed over the shelf and took the reigns. The three remaining Guardians piled in without argument, trying not to upset the boy. Giving the reins a light snap, North brought them steadily to the skies, holding back the urge to push the deer to their limits.

"Tooth, pull open hatch in bottom of floor," North instructed. She complied and pulled out a large red toy sack. "Cut apart and bind wound, he's loosing too much blood."

Bunnymund silently took the sack and ripped a long strip out of it before handing it to Tooth so he could raise Jack. He lifted the winter spirit into his arms with ease, supporting Jack's neck and back so Tooth could get a good wrapping on him. Jack's eyes migrated slowly to look at his face. Bunny could see no fear or pain in that icy stare, just confusion and a numbed but still dimming glaze. A gasp from Tooth pulled Bunny's stare from Jack's face to his stomach. The hole was rimmed in red, his veins black. Blood still poured from the wound, but it had begun to string up with the black ooze. Tooth immediately recovered from her shock and set her jaw so she could bandage him. Jack watched her silently, not even wincing as she cinched it tightly around him. Bunny laid him back down on the bench when she finished.

"Why hasn't 'e said anything?" Bunny demanded of the Cossack.

"Jack is in state of shock. The poison is keeping body from healing, but he's numb to it."

"Poison? Tha's what this black goo is?"

"Yes. Death's sting is one of poison. Jack's body is shutting down."

They let North's words sink in for a while as they sat in miserable silence. They all knew immortality granted them life for all eternity devoid of aging and unnatural durability, but a lethal wound could kill immortals and mortals alike, no matter how long it took. Jack's eyelids began to droop after the first fifteen minutes.

"Oh no ya don't, frostbite." Bunny said with a sad smile and coaxed Jack back into the world of the living. "We've got miles to go until ya rest."

"Don't let him fall asleep. Not until I can see damage." North yelled back. The rest of the trip was relatively silent, activity starting only when Jack would begin to doze off. The odds of him surviving took a nosedive if he fell into a coma. The trip that should have taken twice as long as usual seemed unchanged. The wind was smoothing out their path. As soon as they touched down, North dropped from his seat and climbed into the back to retrieve Jack. The boy had developed a wheezing hitch in his breath and shadows were beginning to form under his eyes.

Production halted when they walked in, all the elves and yetis being sent to their quarters for the night except for the few chosen to help to cut back on the noise. North carried Jack's limp body into the infirmary and laid him out on the padded table. North had accumulated quite a bit of medical knowledge over the years as well as a sizable amount of equipment, but he had only recently added the infirmary wing to the workshop. It wasn't often that it ever had to be used. North slipped the sweatshirt off of Jack's torso, having to pull a little bit to disconnect it from the blood that had dried over skin and fabric alike. It took the Old Russian a minute to recognize the boy without his shirt past all his previous childish pranks. Something tugged deep in his heart when he saw Jack's body was covered in the evidence of three hundred years worth of abuse. Three hundred years that the Guardians ignored him.

He was forced to cut through the makeshift dressing to get to the wound; Tooth certainly had the makings of a medic, she had all but staunched the bleeding. The hole already had the signs of acute infection, but this was no surprise to North. He knew of Morrígan's power and still mourned the many souls he lost because he succumbed to her. Jack was only the most recent to get caught in their crossfire. North shook his head to clear it of a thousand years worth of memories and resolved to keep his emotions at bay for however long it took to help this poor creature before him. Ordering the yetis to different posts, North allowed only the tone and volume of his voice to change, softening it so as to not upset Jack.

He tried to put an intravenous line in Jack's hand, but gave up after realizing rail thin and freezing don't exactly make for a great anchor. He was forced to drill it into Jack's femoral vein in his shin, the bone acting as both an anchor and insulation for the blood flow. The procedure would have been incredibly painful had Jack's body not already shut off pain reception. He took it without even blinking.  
"Here," He said and thrust the bag into the hands of a yeti who had just set down his load of sterile towels and tools. "Hold high and squeeze to flush into boy. Do not break bag! Do you hear me? Treat like porcelain doll." Norths voice was gruff, but the yeti took no offence. Looking at the work ahead of the Cossack, he humbly took any abuse the man needed to vent. North wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Jack's arm, taking in the results without a reaction, and pressed his fingers against the pale neck before shining a light into his eyes. Jack's pulse and pressure were dangerously low, his pupils nearly unresponsive; symptoms pointed to stage four shock. In a hospital setting, he would already be in the operating room. Scratch that, as a mortal he wouldn't have survived long enough to make it to the hospital.

They spent the next two hours with Jack on his side as they attempted to stitch up all the damaged organs and tissues. Oftentimes, they would have to stop and try to clear out the rapidly multiplying strings of black. They squirmed when they were exposed to the air, one of the yetis in charge of destroying them with a meat tenderizer. North couldn't put Jack to sleep until he knew it wouldn't be the last time he woke, so all he could do was rub local anesthetics around the wound and hope Jack didn't regain feeling too quickly. In all, it took three hours to close the wound. Jack remained conscious the whole time; his chest lifting and the occasional whimper the only indicators of life.

North left the yetis to clean him up and put him in a guest room while he went out to face the others. They were seated around the fire in a forced silence. They half expected to hear screams coming from down the hall at any moment, but they never came and none of them could bring themselves to speak and fill the silence. Tooth had taken a seat close to the fire, her head in her hands, feathers ruffling and settling with her sighs. Bunny had taken to polishing his boomerangs with vigor, scrubbing them as though it would wipe away the poisons from Jack's body. His ears were plastered so closely to his head it looked like he didn't have any at all. Sandy sat in empty silence, the space above his head as blank as his face. Occasionally he would tug at the collar of his robes and rub his hands together, but that was all. When North's footfalls were heard coming down the hall it was as if someone had gripped each of the legends in the space where love of family rested, preparing them for the worst but hoping for the best.

"The wound is closed," North said, cursing himself for not having the frame of mind to change his shirt. Jack's blood had stained his hands and arms halfway up the tattoos and splatters painted his shirt and pants.

"So e's going to be alright?" Bunny asked, ears flicking forward.

North looked at the ground, his feet shifting. "I don't know."

"Can we see him?" Tooth blurted, lifting her face from her hands. Tears had stained tracks down her cheeks. North nodded and led them down the hall to a room. Only one Yeti remained, his fur stained with blood and other bodily fluids. He was gently lifting Jack's legs and propping them up above his heart to keep the blood circulating where it was needed.

"Thank you, Phil." North dismissed the yeti to his dorm with his gratitude and a warm but tired smile.

The bed seemed large and imposing, far too much mattress and pillow for such a frail occupant. Jack was lying on his back, a thin pillow beneath his head and many more behind his knees, forcing his blood to remain in the chest and head. The tattered pants and hoodie had been removed; a thin pair of white boxers was his only attire. The IV line had been secured with a tight wrapping of gauze around his calf, a similar protection wrapped thickly around his middle. Blood was already beginning to seep through the gauze.

But those blue eyes were following them as they made their way into the room, no matter how glassy they became or how dark the shadows fell beneath the rims, they still followed. Tooth and Bunny approached the bed together, taking his hands and speaking to him softly. North watched them with blank eyes, unable to properly speak to the boy full knowing what had transpired under those wrappings. That hitch in Jack's breathing had never quite improved and blue veins were quickly turning black.

Jack's face contorted with a cough he was too weak to finish. Tooth let go of his hand and rubbed his chest until he calmed and lay still once more.

"…aff." Came the weedy voice. Jack croaked out the word again, his eyes fluttering then coming into focus. "S…staff." He slurred. It was then that tooth noticed the frantic clutching motion of his left hand. Bunny's ears flattened against his head.

"Later, Jack," Tooth replied, ignoring the biting, niggling voice in her head that wanted her to tell him that it was his staff that did this to him and hope that he wouldn't mention it again, hope the images of all his blood spilling out over the seats would go away. But she knew loosing his only possession would not be something he would take lightly. "For now I just want you to rest." She slipped her hand back into his, calming the spasmodic clutching, and stroked his head gently until he settled back down.

North felt the light weight of a hand on his shoulder. Sandman was floating beside the larger man, an image of a sleeping Jack above his head.

He felt himself nod as he whispered his reply. "Yes, put boy to sleep once they leave, Sandy. We have done all possible, if he slips through our fingers we can rest easy to know he was peaceful. If nothing else it will hold pain at bay for short while."

The sandman nodded his golden head and floated over to Jack. He stood watch over them until North called Tooth and Bunny away, then slowly led Jack into a peaceful rest, putting him further under until his breathing steadied. He sat by Jack's bedside until the wee hours of the morning sending Jack beautifully intricate dreams of anything and everything he had known to make the boy laugh. Icing a street for sledding adventures, riding on the back of the wind, his lake in Burgess. Dolphins found their way in when he ran low on ideas. They swam around his head, playing with each other like he played on the breezes. Bunnymund came to relieve him while the sky was still dark.

"Go rest yaself, Sandman. I'll watch over 'im till morning."

Sandy smiled sadly and floated off towards one of the guest rooms. For four hours Jack was completely still, the small lifting of his chest the only indication of life still left in him. The large rabbit passed the time by painting a few eggs, unable to bring himself to talk to Jack without feeling like they would be his last words. Jack slept until the sun reached its peak for the day at 4am then he woke. Bunny was concentrating on a particularly difficult design when he heard the soft moan.

**AAAANNNNDDD scene. Please don't kill me! Continuation tomorrow! Thanks for reading, follow, fav, and review if you want more, all your support keeps these chapters coming and the more I get the sooner I post! **


	8. Chapter 8: Now You May Rest

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews (EpicDetour9, rezzkat, and scrubslova)! I had the most views today out of any day since I began this story, so a GIGANTIC thank you to anyone and everyone who decided to jump on the bandwagon and read! Lets see if we can beat today's high of 368 views! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians**

**Warning: ANGST. You have been warned. **

_Where we left off:_

_For four hours Jack was completely still, the small lifting of his chest the only indication of life still left in him. The large rabbit passed the time by painting a few eggs, unable to bring himself to talk to Jack without feeling like they would be his last words. Jack slept until the sun reached its peak for the day at 4am then he woke. Bunny was concentrating on a particularly difficult design when he heard the soft moan._

Chapter 8: Now You May Rest

Bunnymund turned, his eyes lit up with the very hope he represented, but his face was washed clean when he saw there was pain in those blue eyes. Jack was in agony, but he was too weak to thrash. Or even to cry. Bunny pulled back the sheet and winced at the blood staining the dressings. He stood quickly and left the room, a promise to Jack of his swift return still on his lips when he passed through the doorway. It didn't take long to find North in his quarters. The large Russian was seated at his desk, his head in his hands.

"Jack's awake," Bunny panted and spun back around to return to the room. North stood quickly and followed, the scene in the recovery room clenching something deep within him with sorrow and pain. Jack was lying in the bed, his face contorted with undiluted agony. He gasped painfully every few seconds. Bunny was by his side in a second, taking the long, thin fingers in his paw. North put a comforting hand on Jack's head and gently cut through the bandages around his middle. Black lines tracked his veins and the pale skin around the wound was turning grey in death. The bandages were patched in blackened blood and strings of infection. Bunny lifted Jack without a word so North could clean and bandage the wound. Another low moan was their only indication that he could feel their work.

"We 'ave to get 'im somethin, North. E's in too much pain."

"I have nothing but ones for rubbing." Bunny's ears flattened for a moment. A local anesthetic wouldn't even take the edge off of this.

"I'll be back," The pooka said and tapped his foot on the ground after setting Jack gently back down on the bed. He jumped into the hole that appeared without another word. North sat with Jack for ten minutes before Bunny returned. The boy didn't try to speak, didn't try to ask for his staff. The only indication that it was on his mind was the clutching of his left hand. North wrapped the slender hand in both of his in an attempt at comfort. He had been careful to watch for any signs of fevers or other effects of an infection, but Jack seemed to be as cold as ever. North shuddered as a thin layer of ice crawled over his hands. He broke them free from Jack's grasp and rubbed them on his pants until feeling came back into his fingers. It was a bit surprising that Jack was able to produce frost in his current state without the staff, but the boy had long since ceased to surprise him.

Bunny hopped up from a tunnel on the other side of the room ten minutes after he left, a sack over his shoulder. He reached them in two strides and emptied the contents of the bag on the large bed. There were ten vials of various intravenous painkillers, two bags of syringes, and a few other pieces of medical equipment. North picked up a few of the bottles and read the labels. Morphine, Codeine, Vicodin, and Oxycontin were just a few of the drugs Bunny had brought. He also nabbed fever reducers, diuretics, antibiotics, and a battery powered ventilator.

"I wasn't sure what 'e would need in the long run, but I figured whatever we didn't use you could save."

"You stole all this?"

"Sometimes ya gotta do bad things to help good people."

"Where from?"

"John Hopkins. They've got more than enough to go around."

North looked like he was going to respond, but instead clamped shut his mouth and filled a syringe with morphine. He put it in the IV line and smiled as Jack's face relaxed in relief.

The guardians spent the next eighteen hours taking turns watching over Jack. Whenever he would begin to feel again North would choose a drug and give him a double dose. He went through it so fast they thought he must have a fever that was burning it off, but Jack's temperature was lower if it was anything. It was during Tooth's shift that the ice forming over his joints was discovered. It had layered itself thickly on his knees, ankles, and elbows, freezing them in place, making the embodiment of winter itself shiver.

The anxiety they felt as they scraped ice off of his appendages only multiplied as the black veins did. Never before had the frost child had any physical response to cold other than contentment, never in three hundred years had they seen him shiver and shake like that.

Jack didn't seem to mentally acknowledge that something was happening to him; he was never really given the chance to. They drugged him as soon as he became aware again, attempting to dull awareness until he felt nothing. Attempting to spare him the pain they felt when they had to take an ice pick and scraper to his spine because it had frozen solid. It was not the swirling ferns of frost that were consuming him, it was thick, deadly ice that gripped him like a leech.

Eventually, they moved his bed to set beside a roaring fire and piled high the blankets in an effort to thaw him out. Even with the added warmth, he still covered himself and everything around him in a thin layer of ice. During North's shift, he was forced to scrape the ice off the boy's chest and hold steaming rags to his face to melt the ice in his mouth and nose at least once an hour so he could breathe. After almost six hours of fighting against the ice, North put a breathing tube in Jack's lungs to force oxygenated, humidified air into him, and began putting heated saline into his IV line to keep his blood from freezing. But the ice would not listen to their pleas; the grey pallor and black veins did not heed their warnings. Jack was fading fast.

At the forty-eight hour mark, North allowed each guardian to go in alone for a few minutes and say goodbye before they all gathered together to wait. They spent thirty precious minutes together, gently ridding his body of the ice and whispering comforts to him while Sandy spun marvelous, drug induced dreams. At two in the morning, when the moon was at its brightest, death's mantle snuffed out the light and the dream sand dolphins melted away, a gentle fall of golden dust all that remained.

They left Jack laying where he was and put out the fire. They knew he would rather be in his element, but no one had the heart to bury him yet.

**Please don't kill me. Please. Send me reviews instead. I like those better than stab wounds and they make me not want to kill off main characters. We'll see how I feel. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9: Silence

**A/N: Good Grief Guys! You flatter me with all these reviews and views (you more than beat the top views for last chapter)! Maybe I should kill characters more often. Just kidding! Major thanks to: 8DancingInTheRain8, EpicDetour9, Miss-Stoneflower, wisedomsdaughter, guest, writergirl142, WOOpdat, rezzkat, Sky Summers, xShinigamixMPx, fluddershy, Luna Frost, WoundedButHere, and guest for all your wonderful (and non life threatening reviews). Enjoy the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians**

_Where we left off: _

_They spent thirty minutes together, gently ridding his body of the ice and whispering comforts to him while Sandy spun marvelous, drug induced dreams. At two in the morning, when the moon was at its brightest, death's mantle snuffed out the light and the dream sand dolphins melted away, a gentle fall of golden dust all that remained. _

_ They left Jack laying where he was and put out the fire. They knew he would rather be in his element, but no one had the heart to bury him yet. _

Chapter 9: Silence

Silence. Silence was the entity that filled the halls of Santoff Clausen and it was suffocating its inhabitants. They were choking on their silence, relishing in the pain it caused them because it was the only they could do to be sure that they could still feel. They needed the silence like they needed air. It was the barrier that stood between them and the others, but it was also the wall that protected them from feeling the pain that lay still behind closed doors. They admitted to themselves that silence was for the best and let it fester in the air. At least it was better than facing the reality that he was really gone.

A log fell in the fireplace, crackling and sending up embers alive with their heat. They rode the push of air, rode freedom until it led them too far from the heat and they snuffed themselves out, landing with morbid grace a few inches from the rug.

North sat in a high backed chair, running a mug across his palm and watching the freed embers dance across the heat-laden air pocket. Watching as they lived their their short lived lives blinking and winking like lightning bugs on the most beautiful of summer nights. He had taken a few sips of whatever had been pressed into his hands but didn't see it fit to care enough to even identify what it was. He felt sick. He felt like someone had ripped a chunk out of his chest and filled it with ice so cold it was shutting him down from the inside out. He had heard over the years that weeping is what relieves this pain. He knew that they were right. But he had tried too many times over the past two days to release all that was pent up only to force it back down for the sake of the others. For Jack. Now that he could release, he found that letting go of his sorrow was as hard as letting go of the boy he had led gently from this world. He couldn't bring himself to walk into that room and give the child the respect he deserved, the honor he had earned. Couldn't bring himself to do as the boy would have wanted and lay him to rest in the snow where he could play and be happy. Couldn't ask any of the others to do it for him. So he did what he always did when there was a mistake that could not be fixed; he worked to prevent it from ever happening again.

"We must stop her," He said, eyes locked on the logs and voice low.

The others looked up at him, startled and a little annoyed that he destroyed their silence, their security. If they didn't address it, it would keep the pain at bay for a short while.

"We must be sure no other feels pain like we do because of mistake I make long ago."

North looked up at his companions. Violet, golden, and green eyes were all filled with the same tears both unshed and shed. Cheeks wore the tracks their sorrows had hewn.

"We must destroy her and him as well, take power from her hands and protect children of the world. If she wins, they will be the ones to pay and we will loose more than the child taken from us tonight. I will not let mourning of children dead and gone touch whole world as it touched us."

"She doesn't want them, North," Tooth whispered, voice hoarse from holding back the tears she left unshed. "Just us."

"Revenge ees her reason for existence. She needs target. If we are all dead, she has no one to hate. She will take from us what we took from her—our power. Our children. To prove her strength, she took Jack and she ees just beginning."

"We don't know were she is," Bunny replied from his spot curled in front of the fire. His jaw was locked and his ears were plastered to the back of his head.

"She will come to us," North insisted. "She ees too proud to hide when she won battle."

"Then she knows he's gone?" Tooth asked.

"She knew what end damage would bring."

They were thrown back into silence with the reminder of the empty place in the chair furthest from the fire. The chair looked so small now, without lanky legs trying to find a comfortable position and a gnarled piece of wood hanging from the top right corner.

"How do we beat her?" Tooth whispered. "She got him so quickly we couldn't protect him." She turned to North. "How can we protect each other when she can kill like that? He was a child, North, and she stabbed him like he was an animal. He couldn't even fight back..." Tears were running down her cheeks and her voice was hitching with sobs by the time she finished. Sandy was by her side in a moment, wide arms of golden sands encompassing iridescent shoulders and still quivering wings, offering comfort and protection.

"We failed 'im," Bunny choked out. "We failed to protect 'im and e's dead."

"Then let us vow to not fail again." Anger laced the Cossack's voice. "We cannot fail again. When she calls us back we will give what she wants and attack from behind. We will fight her tooth and nail and crush her like we did so long ago."

"How…"

"We will figure something out!" North cried. "I will not fail again!"

"North!" Bunny was on his feet pushing North back into his seat and holding him there with his large paws. The man had broken, sobs heaving his great shoulders and tears streaking down his cheeks. "It's alright," Aster whispered. "Ya did all ya could. It's not ya fault." Bunny paused, his breath hitching. "Ya, saw 'im, North. He was bein so strong. Ya gave 'im more time an ya stopped 'is pain. Now e's at peace." He paused again to give the large man's shoulder a squeeze.

"Lets make 'im proud."

~:o:~

Morrígan sat on the stone perch of her throne room, idly spinning the trinket she had bargained so wonderfully for. The snow globe looked so innocent, so useless, but it was a transportation system that would take her anywhere and in exchange all she had to give was an injured and quite useless spirit. A very dead spirit more likely than not, now that she thought about it. His immortality had tickled her as it went down, icy but so full of life. North, if anything, had always tasted festive and heavy with merriment. The frost child was light and refreshing.

Morrígan continued to spin the globe as she reminisced on all her previous kills. Each one was a little different, though she had to pay very close attention with the mortals she took—most were very similar in flavor. It was a distinct theme with all of them, hope, lust, _fear. _And then a touch of something else that she never could predict. The immortals, however, were always a treat. North had been her first outside of Belenus who was made at the same time she had been. His was the seent of spilt blood and human suffering tinged with honor and pride. After she found such a difference in North (her second), she had become a bit of a collector, stealing tastes like beer flavors. After two thousand years she had become quite the connoisseur.

She caught the rabbit only once—he was earthy but fresh—North she had quite often. An interesting one had been Brouillard, the son of fog. He was wet and laden with all the scents of nature. If he hadn't gripped her cloak while she was drinking then she wouldn't have her black fog today. The link between the young immortal and the remnants of the souls she kept hidden for dryer times transformed his body into something more akin to his father, who had no true form. Brouillard now had even less, but Morrígan liked to think that the lives she added to him over the years had fleshed him out a bit.

A sign behind her pulled her from the memories. Pitch was leaning against her throne, his anchor attached to its stately shadow.

"Daydreaming again, love?" He asked.

"Memory watching, dear heart."

"The past can do you no good here. Learn from it and move on."

Morrígan rolled her eyes. "Yes and that worked out so very well for you, Pitch."

She smirked when she could _almost _see his shadowed smile fade.

"Where's your nightmare?" She asked.

"Hopefully eating your bed sheets again. Or your underwear," he replied. "She was eyeing your dresser this morning." She could feel the grin return as hers faded. "Oh come now, don't be cross."

"If she's eaten anything other than the stray shadow of fear, I'll crush her and force feed you the dust. But of course I won't be cross just so long as she—or you—don't cross me."

"Duly noted."

"Now then, what was it you wanted?" Morrígan continued to spin her trinket.

"It's been two days, darling. This has moved past caring for the recently whacked. It's time to attack them before they get their strength back."

"Patience is a virtue, Pitch. As is wisdom. We will wait to strike until we have more leverage. Trust me, if this was a war of brawn North would have stuffed me back into some hole in the ground for another five hundred years. But luckily for us this is a war of brains and for an offensive to be effective leverage must be procured before we draw proper battle lines."

"What did you have in mind? Before, of course, he stuffs you back in a hole."

Morrígan smiled again. "I thought I would take a page from your book, Pitch, and have a little fun with some fear."

"Do go on."

"A few well placed nightmares aught to do the trick. If you could manage it, of course."

"My dear, I am the Nightmare King. Any specific requests for certain heebie jeebies or shall we just run the gamut?"

"How about we twist the images of each of our beloved guardians? Put a little doubt in the heart of each tiny believer and wait to see what happens. After all, the worst nightmares are the ones where those you love turn against you."

"Consider it already done."

"Good. We will call them in for a meeting in seven days time if all goes well."

**Thanks so much for reading! I have another challenge for you wonderful readers! My sister, caligirlsd99, has written a story for Les Miserables called "On My Own" and we decided to have a little contest because she's in awe of all my reviews from you wonderful people! She posted a chapter tonight as I did and we decided that whoever had the most reviews by the end of the day would post not just one, but TWO chapters as a reward for their faithful reviewers. SO, if you want to read the next two chapters in one day (and believe me these are not chapters you are going to want to wait for), you'll crank 'em out! Make me proud RotG lovers!**


	10. Chapter 10: Awaken the Nightmares

**Hi guys! Thank you all so much for the favorites, follows, reads and reviews: Guest, rezzkat, writergirl142, starskulls, and N.a. Brun! You guys make all this worth it! **

**So, if the contest was going as I understood, we would have already won, but my sister decided to make it last until Monday evening when we would be posting the next chapter :( **

**But, no matter, I felt horrible for leaving you guys hanging so I whipped up this little beauty to tide you over! She's posting another chapter too (we're going to post them at the same time so its super fair) and who ever gets the most reviews on their NEWEST chapter will give out two in one day. So sorry, but you can blame her for the lack of two chapters (go complain on her story if you're mad). **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians **

Chapter 10: Gargoyles, Rabid Rabbits, and Trolls. Oh my.

Morrígan entered Pitch's room in the south wing of her palace, unannounced and uninvited.

"Did the ancient Irish forget to teach you how to knock?" The shadow asked from his corner.

"My house my rules."

"Does that include the bathrooms, because if so you're in line for a very rude interruption."

Morrígan rolled her eyes. "Lets just leave my reply as yesterdays threat of grinding your nightmare."

"Did you have a purpose in bothering me, or are you just looking for some riveting conversation? I'm happy to oblige you either way."

"I just wanted to see how it was coming."

"It's coming."

"Well what all have you done so far?"

"Well I took a nap, drank some fear, and conjured up some terribly frightening versions of our targets."

"So that's nothing, then, correct?"

"Dream planting isn't as easy as it sounds, Darling. It takes some preparation."

"Then hurry it along, I don't have all the time in the world."

"Then get out so I can." Pitch turned away from her, seeping back into the shadows.

Morrígan frowned but indulged his rude request, leaving him to his silence and nightmares.

Pitch remained in his room for the full duration of the evening, cursing softly when he realized he would have to give up his precious nightmare to finish his job. Her screams and screeches when he ground her back to dust would have been music to his ears had she not been his only loyal companion. Once it was done he sent her remains out as little streamers bearing the images of fairies layered in stone, their grotesque faces twisted in inhuman screeches and horned wings beating against the wind as they destroyed entire cities. Of quick sand that hypnotized its victims into willingly entering the swampy grave. Of evil trolls that bought children, both naughty and nice, from their parents for its nighttime brew. Of monsters covered in fur that ripped the screaming victims in half, gnawing on legs with its frothy yellowed two front teeth.

His shoulders relaxed as he felt the fear begin to flow back on the streamers, horror began to fill him with the very power he needed. One village in the south of Ireland had been all he needed. One tiny town filled with sleeping little believers to toy with before he was ready to blanket the whole isle. The streamers multiplied, branching off to touch little minds and bring back the dream screams to their maker.

By the time morning had dawned, all of the people of the British Isles and Western Europe were sitting up with wide eyes as children sobbed in parents arms.

"And you listened to the sandman, mommy. Why did you listen to him?"

« Papa, tu m'as donné. Vous m'avez donné à l'homme mauvais. Pourquoi, papa? Vous ne m'aimez pas? »

Crying filled the air like incense. Fear wafted on the breeze itself. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Pitch laughed. He could feel fear as children shuddered while looking at pictures of Santa Claus, remembering their nightmares, asking parents to keep the fires going so the troll could not get into the house. Asking them to make sure the windows were shut the following night so the gargoyles and sand monsters couldn't get in. Bunnies everywhere were sent outside to their hutches.

Nightmare sand wrapped around the shadow king in his solitary room within the bowels of an ancient castle. It nickered longingly for a true form and he obliged it, creating mare after terrifying mare, unaware of the change that was overtaking his shadow form. Hands emerged and yellow eyes began to glow.

~:o:~

The guardians sat together for some time before returning to their homes, their need to preserve the belief of children overriding their sorrow. They were to return that evening for a simple ceremony to commemorate the life of their young comrade and return him to the earth. Until that time came, North found it too difficult to even think about opening the door. So it remained closed, locked tightly against any who would wish to disturb the body of a member of his family.

He went about his business, hiding his sorrow in the hacking of ice blocks with no true form in mind. He mindlessly changed colors and screw types, feeling as though he could nothing productive so he might as well keep busy inspecting the productivity of others. He was being cruel, that much he understood, but after being called to inspect the small, wooden coffin he had requested, he couldn't find it within himself to care. It was marked with beautiful craftsmanship. Made of the same wood as Jack's staff, it had been covered with gentle carvings of frost ferns, evergreen boughs and icicles. Snowflakes lined the borders with simply beautiful designs. Every one was unique.

He had locked himself in his office after he deemed it quite appropriate and thanked them for their hard work. He stayed there until five that evening, picking away at a block of ice before standing and moving to the sitting room to wait for the others to arrive. They came alone, somber and tear stained every one, silent until all had arrived.

They were quiet for so long, they all wondered if it was with the same silence that they would finish this chapter of their lives. Wondered if their friend would be laid to rest to the tandem of quiet tears and words caught in throats tight with sorrow masquerading as strength. But once again, Father Christmas broke it.

"I remember when he come to pole to pester yetis and freeze elves. They all loved him so." North forced a quiet smile. "No matter how many times I yell, he still come back to tease. He play so hard one day he fall asleep in rafters of workshop. Stayed all night, and had breakfast with me next morning."

"He took my fairies out for rides when they weren't busy—and sometimes when they were—so they could see the world and all its colors without a tooth in their arms. He even let them see his teeth whenever they asked."

"Little bugger froze my colored streams an' my tail an' ears one day when I was too busy to rest. Gave me a cold so bad I had to take a day off. 'E came by when I was well to help me catch up on lost time. 'E knew I needed a break an' helped me take one."

Sandy sat with a quiet smile and watched as his friends reminisced on all the things their frosty haired companion had done for them over the past twenty years. Memories were offered without prompting and accompanied with bright eyes and sad smiles. He had been a very special friend to them all. Sandy remembered when he first met the boy. He had been young, only a few days old, and very frightened. Sandy had taken pity on the lad and sat playing with him for a few hours, letting his golden streamers wrap around the crooked staff and dance across frosty features. He played until the streams of sand and ice had abated and tears had stopped flowing. He stayed until his frost child fell asleep and sent him a beautiful dream of children who would play in the snow with him, laughing and playing pranks on him just as he did on them.

Sandy had seen very little of the boy in the hundreds of years that followed that night, seeing him for only a few short minutes every decade or so as they spread their fun and dreams together in a flurry of snowflakes and golden dreams. But the boy had never caused him any trouble, even tried to calm storms so Sandy could have an easier time of spreading his dreams in the middle of winter.

Sandy wished he had been the one to die. He knew they all wished it. Wished that it was one of them that was gone and he was sitting here alive and well. But instead it was him that fell before their eyes. Sandy shut his eyes for a moment, focusing on a particularly bright memory of a smiling frost child who had been sitting in a snowdrift with a very little girl, rolling tiny snowballs towards her and silently watching as she shrieked with giggles and crushed them with her little mittened fists. Grinning as she stood and waddled after a very special snowflake he had conjured just for her. Laughing as only a snowflake can laugh as she caught it on her nose and it melted before she could get a hold of it.

Sandy started from his stupor when he heard a little giggle, laced with sniffling. The others were watching him with wide, watery eyes. A tearful smile was spread across Tooth's face.

"Thank you, Sandy." She said, glancing up at the large version of his memory that he had accidently projected. Little sand children spanned the length of the long room, playing and laughing in silent reverie at the antics of a certain smiling frost child. It dissipated with a gentle fall of dust as Sandy released his hold on the memory with a soft smile. He nodded his head and they all returned to their quiet sharing of their most precious memories.

Jack Frost may be gone, but he would live forever more in their memories.

~:o:~

The moon shone brightly through the windows of the quiet room in the west wing of the house atop the mountains. Voices could be heard from down the hallway, soft voices laced with pain that had been passed from one to many. Quiet sniffling and the sharing of images of one too young to have left. The only way to describe it was the feeling of a death in the family. Of the loss of a child.

The door had been shut tightly and they tried to immerse themselves in the memories of the past that spoke of happier times, forget for even a few moments the horrors that they had witnessed and the responsibility they now bore. So they shut the door and attempted not to feel until honor for the fallen forced them to open it again. They shut the door and left him in the moonlight. They relinquished their right to witness as the wound filled up with ice and became whole. They missed the sight of silver hair growing brown and mortal breaths filling stilled lungs. They were not the first sight of a pair of brown eyes reborn.

**Jack is back. HOW WAS THAT FOR A PLOT TWISTER? **

**You really didn't think I would leave him dead, did you? Did you? You did? Oh. Sorry. Hope this makes up for it. **

**My sissie's talking smack, y'all. She says she's going to stomp you into the dust because she has Marius and all we have is puny Jack Frost. I say we destroy her and all her little Mis-ies!**


	11. Chapter 11: Mortal Breaths

**Wow, guys! Thanks so much for all the reviews (thank you Catflower Queen, EpicDetour9, rezzkat, Guest, and Don't touch my Seaweed Brain), follows and favs! I've been taunting my sister for hours now, telling her that you all love les mis but Jack is just so much cooler! She took the bait almost every time lol :) **

**Unfortunately, you let the Mis-ies beat you and they get two chapters (Boo!). We missed it by three whole reviews :( But I posted a solitary chapter as a reward for your efforts!**

**Oh well, better luck next time! If you want another shot at icing those lousy play lovers, drop a note saying so in your review! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables or Jack Frost. **

_Where we left off:_

_The door had been shut tightly and they tried to immerse themselves in the memories of the past that spoke of happier times, forget for even a few moments the horrors that they had witnessed and the responsibility they now bore. So they shut the door and attempted not to feel until honor for the fallen forced them to open it again. They shut the door and left him in the moonlight. They relinquished their right to witness as the wound filled up with ice and became whole. They missed the sight of silver hair growing brown and mortal breaths filling stilled lungs. They were not the first sight of a pair of brown eyes reborn. _

Chapter 11: Mortal Breaths

The boy sat up and shook the moonlight from his hair before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. A chill shot up his feet from the cold of the floorboards and he shivered. The bloody bandages around his middle confused him, as did the room. The blood was obviously not his—he had no wound—and never in all his days had he seen so large a bed and hearth. This place was meant for giants, not for him.

Pain throbbed down his leg as he hobbled out of the room, clutching his arms around his thin middle in an attempt to keep warm. The wind outside was ratting against the windowpanes, so violent it almost seemed like it wanted to get into the room. The boy shivered again as he made his way down the brilliantly decorated halls. He could hear voices echoing off the walls and he did his best to locate them past the spinning in his head.

A great room opened up before him and he did his best to seem brave and stop limping as he rounded the corner. There was a group in the center of the room, talking quietly amongst themselves. A woman in a feathered dress let out a pained chuckle, smiling sadly as she talked about someone who was dancing with her babies.

The boy stood there for a moment, unsure of whether or not he would be welcomed here. They seemed to be in mourning. The boy moved to shuffle back, the movement of his injured leg upsetting a rug that had been placed on the wooden floors; there must be someone else here who could help him, he shouldn't disturb them.

One of the occupants looked up to find the source of the disruption. His eyes grew wide as he pushed himself to his feet. A pair of large ears rose to slant forwards from where they had been setting against the back of his head.

"Jack?" He choked, allowing a thick accent to slur his words with hope.

The boy looked at the creature with wide eyes: he stood tall on two large back paws, tribal markings coloring the grey fur that covered his body.

The feathered lady rose up from her chair and wiped the tears from her cheeks. A small smile began to pull at the corners of her mouth. She was by his side in a moment, her movement so fast it was almost like she was flying.

"How?" She asked

The two others were sitting in their chairs, staring at him with wide, silent eyes. The feathered lady wrapped her arms around him, pressing him to her.

"You're back," She whispered; joy so obviously lacing her voice.

"How do we know its him?" The long eared creature asked. The lady shot him a look.

"He has bloody bandages and an IV line sticking out of his leg; it's him."

A large, brute of a man recovered from his shock and rose from his chair, a little golden fellow on his heels.

"Sit down," he ordered, and the boy listened. The man placed his hands on either side of the boy's face, looking in his eyes before he slid his fingers down to rest below the boy's jaw. The youth seemed to shrink from his touch. "He has pulse." The man murmured, joy in his eyes. He pulled a dagger from his belt and without asking cut the bandages free, ignoring the fear in the boy's eyes. There was not a mark to be seen on the pale skin as evidence for the deathblow, not even an inkling of infection.

The man looked up at his friends. "Not even scratched."

"What's going on? Where am I?" The boy asked.

"Ees alright, Jack," The large man said with a grin. "Manny save you, you're at Santoff Clausen!"

"Who's Jack?"

The wonder drained from the man's face. "You're Jack."

"Oh," Jack said. He sat in silence for a few moments and let the big man check him over for injuries. He wracked his brain for any memories that remained. There was nothing. "Whose blood is this?" He whispered, eyes on the blood that was smeared on his abdomen.

"Hush now," the feathered woman said soothingly and ran her hands through his brown hair. She had no idea how it was that he was living, how he brought in breath with such ease. He had been dead, she had watched him die, and now he was leaning against her, his back lifting as North pressed scopes to his chest. "My name is Toothiana," She said, trying to take his mind off the violation of his space and comfort. "But you can call me Tooth."

"I don't know who I am," Jack responded, forgetting for a moment the formalities of introductions. She didn't seem to mind, understanding that he was confused and agitated. He allowed silence to overcome him for another few minutes while the big man barked orders at giant fuzzy creatures that were hurrying around the room, bringing him all sorts of instruments. "This thing in my leg hurts." He whispered, his voice rising to a whine as he tried to sit up. He didn't like all these hands on him.

The long eared creature set a paw on his shoulder. "I know, mate. Jus' rest easy, we'll take it out in a second."

The feathered lady leaned him back against her and resumed the stroking of his hair. He flexed his jaw, feeling like there was something he should do to get them all away from him. Nothing came to mind. Scopes were pressed to his all over his torso and the large man kept crushing his arm in a fabric band, nodding every so often like everything was to his expectations. Jack huffed and tried to push the man's hands away, only to have his wrists gripped tightly and forced out of the way.

"Let go!" He cried. "I don't—"

Suddenly the little golden man floated into his vision. Was it normal for little men to float? He had no idea what was customary with no memory to compare his surroundings with. Golden pictures started forming, moving on their own accord like they had breath in their nostrils. Iced ponds and snowball fights were brought to life, stealing Jack's attention from his discomfort to the pictures. He watched, spellbound in the images as a slight grin tugged at his mouth. All children like a picture show. He didn't even blink when the big man picked up his leg and began unwinding the gauze. He hardly felt it when he rubbed something around the protrusion. But he did feel the agonizingly slow removal of the tube.

He grabbed hold of the closest thing to him, the arm of the long eared creature, and ground his teeth as he tried to keep from screaming. Bunny tensed under the grip, expecting to feel frost climbing up his arm any second. But none came, just a very mortal grip from pale fingers shaking in pain. Sandy gave North a full minute to try and gently remove the intravenous line, before he grew tired of seeing blood snaking down the boy's shin and listening to him grind his teeth. He sprinkled dream sand over the brown head of hair. The moment the grains touched his eyes, the boy grew lax and leaned into Tooth. North shifted and swiped the back of his hand across his brow. He got a better grip on the tube and pulled it out with no regard to pain prevention. Jack yelped in his sleep but settled back down with the help of another portion of dream sand.

North cleaned the wound and sutured the skin before wrapping it and picking the boy up. He settled easily into the Cossack's arms. North laid him on a couch close to the fire and covered him with a blanket.

"What are ya doin?" Bunny yelled. "You're gonna melt 'im!"

"Bunny," North began. "Jack is cold."

"E's supposed to be cold ya dolt! E's a winter spirit!"

"Not anymore," the big man murmured.

"What?"

"Manny did not restore immortality. Jack may live, but mortal breath is what fills nostrils now."

**Thanks so much for reading, drop a review in the box on your way out! Btw, she's still gloating and deserves some well-placed kicks to the behind (figuratively with reviews that I will recite with pride). Her story is "On My Own" her name is caligirlsd99 in case anyone was wondering (**** send hate mail here). **


	12. Chapter 12: Second Chances

**A/N: Wow! Thanks so much for all the support you guys! I don't care what those les missies think, you guys are the best readers an author could ask for! Many thanks and crème brulee to Don't Touch my Seaweed Brain (aww yay! I made someone cry! Er, I mean sorry :P), EpicDetour9 ( she can be quite amusing), Sky Summers (so glad you like it!), Rezzkat (both times lolz I love you too), Hunter-Re (major feels –and some humor— coming up in next chapter when poor Jaime gets quite the surprising visit!), Catflower Queen (Glad you liked it! Sandy knows every child loves a picture show!), and last but not least N.a. Brun (:D)**

** You guys make writing this story worth all the work, thanks so much and I hope you enjoy this one (warning its filled with feels and its wayyyy longer than I intended but I just couldn't stop!).**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians **

_Where we left off: _

_North cleaned the wound and sutured the skin before wrapping it and picking the boy up. He settled easily into the Cossack's arms. North laid him on a couch close to the fire and covered him with a blanket. _

"_What are ya doin?" Bunny yelled. "You're gonna melt 'im!"_

"_Bunny," North began. "Jack is cold."_

"_E's supposed to be cold ya dolt! E's a winter spirit!"_

"_Not anymore," the big man murmured._

"_What?" _

"_Manny did not restore immortality. Jack may live, but mortal breath is what fills nostrils now."_

Chapter 12: Second Chances

"He's mortal?" Tooth chirped from across the room.

"Yes." North's voice shook as he spoke and Bunny placed a paw on his arm.

Sandy nodded sadly from his place at Jack's head. He still had an hour before he had to go to work and he was determined to monitor Jack's dreams until he was forced to leave. The dreams of the children of the world called to him, and now Jack had joined their ranks once more.

"What are we going to do with 'im?" Bunny asked.

"He cannot stay at Pole," North responded. "Workshop is no place for mortal boy."

"Well where else is he going to go?" Tooth said, flying from her spot on the floor. "He has no one besides us. No other family to care for him!"

They all sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the rhythmic breathing of their youngest ally. They had sat beside his bed as he drew his last breaths. They had said their goodbyes. To see him walk and breathe again, see his face a normal flesh tone, was nearly too much.

"Maybe Jaime would take him for a few days?" Tooth offered lamely. The rest of the guardians voiced against that, Jaime didn't need the responsibility of a lost and remarkably mortal winter spirit when he had his own fledgling family to contend with. There was no telling what Rachael would think about taking in some stranger's teenage son. But after an hour of brainstorming, they couldn't think of a better solution. He couldn't go to any of their homes; Jack would slip right through Sandy's dream sand house, Tooth's Palace was surrounded by a deadly drop that would undoubtedly fascinate the child and put him in danger, Bunny couldn't stomach the idea of an idle youth around all his eggs, and the workshop was out of the question because of North's past relationship with the bringer of mortal death herself. Morrígan was still at large and she would not be pleased to know that Jack had survived her attack. They knew her drink would kill him off quite easily if she found him and the chances of that happening skyrocketed if he stayed with the guardian that was in her crosshairs. There was no place for a mortal child in an immortal world. He had to be with his own kind at least until they had dealt with Death.

Death. That was an entirely new problem facing Jack. As a mortal, no matter how much they wished it wasn't so, he would grow old and die. He would shiver in the cold, cough when he was sick, and move on past this moment to a new life among his people. They may have gotten him back, but he was not theirs to keep.

They glanced at the sleeping boy as he shifted in his slumber. The blanket was kicked unceremoniously into the floor and he buried his face into the pillows.

"Told ya 'e would get hot," Bunny said, grinning cheekily.

North frowned and ordered a yeti to bring him a sheet and make a set of clothes to fit Jack. The fur-covered worker grumbled a response and returned within a few minutes with the sheet and a report of a full ensemble being whipped up as they spoke. North thanked him and sent him on his way before laying the thin fabric over Jack's back, hiding the years of scarring and abuse. As an immortal, Jack had been forever in the state he died in: dangerously thin. But it hadn't been a problem, as immortals never change. But Jack could gain weight now and North wanted to cover up the reminder of changes that would inevitably come as well as preserve some of the boys' dignity. He was still wearing nothing but the thin pair of white boxer shorts.

With Jack now comfortable, North sent the other guardians—with the exception of the Sandman—back to their posts. With Morrígan as a threat, they needed to preserve their strength, which meant preserving children's belief in them. That was impossible to do if they did not fulfill their duties. He readied the sleigh and packed three outfits the yetis had managed to crank out into a bag, laying one very special choice over the back of the couch so the boy could dress after he woke and bathed. A pair of tawny pants and brown boots sat below a blue hoodie and black tee shirt. North wanted no discrepancies with Jack's identity when they reached Jaime's house in Burgess.

Jack slept through the night, to North's great relief. He may have taken responsibility for the boy's care, but he still had no more confidence than he did when he was pulling strings of death from Jack's stomach. North wanted nothing more than to keep Jack at the pole where he could be safe and loved, but he understood that the boy would never be safe with Morrígan still unaccounted for. So instead, when he woke, North draped the clothes over his arm and led the boy—one of North's robes wrapped around his shoulders— by the hand to the washroom. He instructed Jack on how to regulate the temperature of the water, trying his best to say the least amount possible so he would not scare the boy again. Looking back on his actions after Jack came back, North realized he must have startled him terribly. When Jack nodded his understanding North left him alone and waited for him in his office, directing the Yetis to keep an eye out for him.

North slid into a chair by the fire, his head in his hands. It had felt so strange, holding such a small mortal hand in his grasp. No ice traveled up his arm, no shivers ran up his spine. Just a hand, and a life as dependent upon his providence as that of a child. It shouldn't be that way, that much North understood. Jack should have been dead; whether from his wound or from the lake over three hundred tears ago he shouldn't have breath in his lungs. All that blood that he spilt…

North sighed and ground his knuckles into his temples, trying with all his might to drill out the offending images. Drill out images of frost children lying on gurneys with holes in their stomachs and death lingering on their lips. Of ice caked limbs and blue eyes glazed to a deadened grey. There would be no washing the guilt from his hands like he washed the blood of Jack Frost down the drain a few days ago—the blame for all the pain the boy had been forced to endure rested squarely on North's shoulders. And it was tearing him apart to see innocent brown eyes looking up into his, unaware of all the horrors his protector saw every time he looked at him.

~:o:~

Morrígan sighed from her perch in the throne room, bored out of her mind. Pitch had locked himself into his chambers nearly twelve hours ago, occasional profanities the only indication of life within those stone rooms. She rubbed her thumb up the side of the staff, watching with disinterest as little pieces of wood disintegrated under her touch and black strings settled into their place. Another of her spoils from earlier days, the ooze was what remained of a nameless water sprite who had wandered into her domain. He had been young and inexperienced, easy pickings but quite flavorful nonetheless. His weakness caused his binding with her being in the form of the thick substance, but without his immortality he would have been reduced to nothing more than another life riding through her ever present mist. Honestly, she was so surrounded by people Morrígan was never quite as alone as she felt. Too bad none of them could speak with her any longer—they were mindless now, puppets who are no use to an idle mistress. But they were some comfort, she supposed, even if they could only echo her own thoughts and messages. Hundreds of little Morrígans. She smirked to herself and rubbed the staff once more. Too bad she wasn't very good company.

The very real slamming of a door followed by the sound of rapid footfalls pulled her from her musings on the ethereal. Standing tall, she created a barrier with her mist and wielded the staff like a weapon, eyes alert and chest tight. Pitch couldn't slam doors.

The feet and their owner moved ever closer, their movement falling into beat with the pattering of her heart. She had been caught far too often with her guard down when she was younger to ignore such a blatant warning of danger. When the long shadow of the intruder rounded the corner, Morrígan fired off a shot of black ice, freezing her adversary in place. Ever since her drink from the frost child, she had been able to channel a small portion of his ability through his sole possession. Heavy cursing and the sound of ice shattering almost caused her to fire off another shot before she recognized its tone.

"Pitch?" She called, still far too uncertain to let her guard down. A tall, dark form slunk into the great hall.

"From the looks of you I was not your expected guest." He glanced at the staff. "Mind putting that thing away, Love? I would still like to enjoy the death of Jack Frost a little longer before you freeze me again."

Morrígan frowned and brought up her weapon. "Well don't you look dapper?" She spat.

"New skin can do that for a man," He replied with a sickening grin.

"Now, Darling, as I'm sure you can tell, I'm feeling much better now and phase two is now underway. My nightmares are traveling as we speak to every corner of the world, spreading fear and all things nasty."

"Good!" She crooned. "Now we need only cement our progress. Continue on, Pitch, I have an errand to run."

"Have a lovely time, Darling," He said with a grin. "Oh, and Morrígan," He called as she turned down the hallway he had just emerged from. "While your fear was quite delicious when she froze me, it doesn't make you any prettier."

"No, but a little taste from you might!" She retorted as the door slammed shut with a resounding bang. Pitch grinned and returned to his work. She really was too much fun.

~:o:~

Jack looked uneasily at the tub full of water, his soiled shorts discarded on the floor behind him and a bar of soap clenched tightly in one fist. For the life of him he could not figure out why he felt such apprehension. Baths were normal, of that he was sure, but the calm, glassy surface seemed to him to be something quite deadly. Timidly, he reached into the water, long pale fingers breaking the surface and slipping within. He felt around for the plug, releasing it when his fingers clasped around the metal chain. He watched as the water created a little whirlpool as it drained. With a smile, he touched it, chuckling as he felt it pull a little at his hand. When the water was mostly gone, only about six inches remaining of what used to be a full tub, Jack climbed in and sat down.

He swallowed the urge to panic, assuring himself that there was nothing to fear from this little water, and slowly wet himself down with water he drew into a pitcher that had been placed beside the tub. The water was cool—heat seemed quite unappealing at the moment—and though it brought with it a certain sense of caution, he enjoyed the prospect of ridding himself of the dried sweat and blood. When he was thoroughly wet, he gripped the soap bar—lost it two or three times and had to chase it around in the water as it evaded him as expertly as any fish—and lathered up. Soap, as he soon recognized, feels quite nice when it foams properly but not when it gets into one's eyes. But for all his trouble, being clean was well worth it.

He had to take extra care when washing his right shin because of the small row of stitches that held together a deep cut. The large man wouldn't tell him why he had that thing in his leg, only that he must be very careful to not rip out the stitches. Jack wasn't sure how he felt about the man. Nicholas (or North as he had been told was the name his friends knew him by) was a very imposing entity to him. Large and loud, he was quite a shock to Jack and he hadn't been very happy when North had been checking him over without asking how he felt about the matter. But the kindness in the man's eyes, the _sorrow_, was dancing around his first impressions (biased as they were because of the pain the man had caused him). After thinking about it for a while as he washed, Jack decided North wasn't all that bad; someone that held such sadness must care and love very deeply. And someone with that much love to give wouldn't be too bad of a friend to have.

When he finally felt clean, Jack stepped out of his bath and wrapped up in a towel, slipping on the tee, undershorts, and pants while he was still damp. Wiping the mirror with the towel, Jack looked at his reflection. He saw nothing special. Nothing that would cause all those tears that never made their journey down the cheeks of all those people he stumbled in on. All he saw was a boy who was entirely too skinny. So Jack pulled the sweatshirt over his head though he really didn't feel very cold. It was large enough to hide his size, giving him the little boost of confidence he needed to step from the washroom and out into the main workshop.

He didn't make much noise, but after coming out into the main room he realized it wouldn't have mattered if he had; no one could hear over all that noise. The large fuzzy creatures he had seen last night were running around in practiced chaos, building, painting, testing, and wrapping thousands upon thousands of toys. Jack ducked when a remote control plane flew by his head, his bare feet finding purchase on the rug before he lost his balance and his bottom did. A grin tugged at the corners of Jack's mouth.

That was _fun_!

He made his way into the thick of the crowd, bumping into and getting bumped into by the grumbling hairballs. He wandered aimlessly, glancing at the toys that didn't interest him and stopping to stare and sometimes touch the ones that did. One particular favorite was a simple plastic mold with a picture of a round structure made of packed snow etched into the side.

"Igloo," Jack said, reading the strange word inscribed on the side of the red brick. With a grin, Jack decided to remember that word.

He wandered about until a lighter toned creature put a hand on his shoulder and steered him out of the work zone towards a cluster of offices. After a knock on the middle door and a few grumbled words, Jack found himself once again in the company of North. The man wore a tired grin.

"Bath was good?" he asked.

Jack nodded and smiled back. "I feel better."

"Good!" North replied, his smile flickering when his eyes landed on Jack's bare feet. He was wiggling his toes, digging them into the plush carpet. It was an action turned habit North had noticed Jack did quite often wherever he was—especially if the substance below his feet was soft. North supposed it must come from all the time he spent in the snow. After all, powder was the best carpet of all.

"Where ees boots, Jack?" North asked.

Jack just shrugged.

"You'll catch cold without shoe."

Jack shrugged again and grinned helplessly. "I don't mind."

"You mind when you sick."

"I'm not sick now, so what does it matter?"

"No, you not sick now. And I am so very tankful for tat."

"Was I sick before?"

North paused before he answered. "Yes. But you're better now." He smiled again, a hint of pain pervading the joy. "Now, we go find shoes and then we go on trip."

"Where are we going?" Jack asked, steps falling in silently behind North's long strides.

"To see old friend. You vill stay with him for a while."

"Oh." Jack was silent for a few minutes, following North as he wound through the brilliantly decorated halls. "Why can't I stay here? I like it here."

North smiled to himself. He had longed to hear Jack say those words for over twenty years. Now when he finally wished to stay, North was forced to send him away.

"I vish you could." North whispered, slowing as he approached the washroom. "Friend's house ees better than shop, Jack. Tere are children to play with."

"Children?" Jack's attention perked.

"Of course!" North, seeing the tub still partially full of water, reached down and pulled the plug to let it drain. He shivered a little. The water was ice cold. "Jack, could you not find hot water spout?"

"No," the boy replied. "I just don't like hot things."

North smiled to himself again and pulled the boots out from behind the door.

"Try for size," He said and handed them to his young charge. Jack laced the boots up as loosely as he could but he still felt like his feet were suffocating. It wasn't that they were too small (on the contrary, they were actually a bit large), Jack just didn't like to bind his feet into anything. He didn't know why it was so horribly uncomfortable, but he felt bad to tell North this.

"Thank you," Jack said, wiggling his toes to find only suffocating socks at his grasp.

North grinned again. "Ees no problem, Jack. You don't have to wear unless you outside."

Jack grinned again and took the boots and socks off, letting his toes sink into the rug.

"Now, ees time to go." North turned around, leaving Jack to follow behind. He barked only a few orders before telling Jack to put his boots back on and leading him down a tunnel. Drawn out from a garage was the largest sleigh Jack had ever seen. A lopsided smile tugged at his mouth.

"Wow!"

North laughed and motioned for Jack to climb on in. He did so, a little clumsily because of his leg, but plopped himself down onto the first row of seats next to the back pack North had already set in. The large man himself climbed in seconds later, the sleigh groaning under his weight and his steeds snorting in anticipation. They loved a good run.

North turned to face Jack. "Hold tight, yes?"

Jack nodded and gripped a handle that had been welded to the inner wall. With a snap of the reigns they were off, flying down the tunnel at break neck speeds. Jack gasped for a moment and gripped a little tighter, but when North looked back to check on him all he found was a smile a mile wide.

"Are you ready for de loop de loops?" He asked. If Jack's grin had gotten any wider it might have split his face in two. North chuckled and snapped the reigns, guiding the sleigh up around the supports, the momentum flinging them up onto the ceiling. Once, twice, three times they defied gravity before popping out into free air. North loosened his grip on the reigns and settled more easily into his seat, allowing a few short tears to mingle with his beard. In the back seat of his sleigh, Jack Frost was laughing great belly laughs of joy.

**A/N: YAY! **

**Leave me a review and tell me what you think of how the story's going! Any suggestions? If I like your idea, I just might use it (with credit to you of course!) Thank you all for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing! Till next time!**


	13. Chapter 13: Nice to Meet You

**A/N: Thank you all for the views, favorites, follows, and reviews! It's your reviews that keep my trudging through when things get tough! Special shout out to: Rezzkat (lol I can't wait to have Morrígan figure that one out! I can't wait to hear what you think of this chappie!), zaylo267 (Thanks so much! I'm glad you like it!), Don't touch my Seaweed Brain (Sorry I made you cry. But the feels were too irresistible :P), Catflower Queen (I believe it is four days till Christmas—give or take—and I'm dedicating this chapter to you because of the Jaime factor :D), and N.a. Brun (I'm so glad you're enjoying it! Can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter!) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians**

_Where we left off:_

_Jack nodded and gripped into a handle that had been welded to the inner wall. With a snap of the reigns they were off, flying down the tunnel at break neck speeds. Jack gasped for a moment and gripped a little tighter, but when North looked back to check on him all he found was a smile a mile wide. _

_ "Are you ready for de loop de loops?" He asked. If Jack's grin had gotten any wider it might have split his face in two. North chuckled and snapped the reigns, guiding the sleigh up around the supports, the momentum flinging them up onto the ceiling. Once, twice, three times they defied gravity before popping out into free air. North loosened his grip on the reigns and settled more easily into his seat, allowing a few short tears to mingle with his beard. In the back seat of his sleigh, Jack Frost was laughing great belly laughs of joy._

Chapter 13: Nice to Meet You

Jack laughed for a good five minutes while North flew much faster than he should have, pulling flips and dives just so he could hear the child laugh. It was strange, Jack's voice did little to calm his guilt and the knowledge that he was living, while a great relief, didn't fill that pit where self blame lay. But that laugh, that infectious laugh that was born of childlike wonder and fun, seemed to take the bite from all that pain.

Eventually, North was forced to ease up on the speed so he could get a portal opened. Morrígan may have taken his one prototype of the reusable snow globe, but it hadn't taken too much time to create something that was possibly better than his first attempt. The prototype ran the risk of sending its user not to the intended destination, but to one that the emotions were linked most strongly to in the mind. While not usually a problem when one was just trying to cut the time off of a long journey (one could just repeat the request), in a battle it could mean the difference between a life lost and a life saved. The second attempt all but eliminated that and a few other bugs.

"Forest of Burgess," North whispered into the snow-laden waters. When thrown, a portal opened before them, prompting a gasp from the back seat. North chuckled at the boy's response; eyes wide and mouth agape, he gripped the handle even more tightly as they were swallowed up by the swirling colors. Just as quickly as they entered, the portal spat them back out into a clearing in a wood.

"Where are we?" Jack asked. "Is this where your friend lives?"

"Yes," North replied. "In city not far from here."

"He doesn't live in the woods?"

North laughed. "No, Jack. Jaime does not live in trees."

"Well it was a valid question," The boy pointed out. "They look comfortable enough to me."

"You want to stay in trees, then?"

Jack shrugged again. "We'll see."

North grinned and tied a feed bag around the muzzle of each reindeer, securing the sleigh with ice picks he drove into the ground. Once he was finished, he led Jack west towards Burgess.

"Bit chilly, yes?" North asked and fished out the winter coat his yetis had made from the sack.

Jack shook his head. "I'm not cold. It's comfortable."

"Ees less than 20 degrees. Put other coat on."

Jack crossed his arms and smirked. "I'll get too hot."

North sighed and stuffed the fur trimmed coat back into the bag. He was frustrated with the boy but couldn't help but smile when Jack grumbled under his breath.

"It's bad enough I have to wear boots. If I had my way they'd be gone."

"Come now, Jack. Ees just over next ridge."

"Why couldn't we just drive in?"

"Because eet would draw attention to us."

"Well why is that bad?"

"Ees dangerous. Don't worry ees not too far now."

Jack walked in relative silence for the rest of the trip, stopping every now and again to touch a frost fern on a tree or jump into a snowdrift. North couldn't help but laugh along with him when it began to snow, turning his brown head of hair into snowy white. But he managed to keep himself contained when Jack shoved a fistful of snowmelt down North's coat, peals of delighted laughter ringing through the silent wood. Flakes coated the lashes of the two friends as they trudged through the untouched playground of winter. Finally the tops of buildings began to float above the tree-covered hills.

"Could we go up there?" He asked, pointing towards the roof of a very tall building.

"Not today. Today we go see special friend."

"Oh. Okay."

Jack entertained himself in the snow until they hit streets. Gaping at the buildings and shops, Jack hardly noticed the stares of all the little children. North sheepishly waved and reminded them to be good for their parents.

"North! North!" Jack grabbed North's sleeve excitedly. "There's an ice rink! Can we go?"

"You ask Jaime when we arrive."

"Do you think he'll say yes?"

"I be surprised if he say anything at all past shock." North mused. He hadn't really planned out what he was going to say to Jaime when he showed up on his doorstep with a strange brown haired youth. He figured he could just wing it and be fine. They walked through the town as quickly as possible to avoid unwanted confrontations, slowing only when they reached the area of town where the apartment complexes and condos sat.

"Do you know were it is?" Jack asked, looking a little bewildered at the cookie cutter complexes. Speaking of cookies, he was getting quite hungry.

North scoffed. "Do I know where eet ees? Do you know who eet ees you be talking with?"

"No," Jack supplied offhand.

North frowned and watched as Jack jumped into another snow drift. "Trust me, I know."

Jack shrugged and fell back in line behind his guardian. North stopped in front of a small residence on the right side of the road and rapped his knuckles on the door. A few moments later a disheveled young man opened the door, a little girl settled on his hip, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Can I help—" His eyes grew wide when North's massive figure came into perspective. "N..North!" He stammered. North smiled back tiredly. "What are you doing here?"

North set a hand on Jack's shoulder. For once, the boy was standing still, his hands clasped behind his back. Jaime too a few steps back when Jack looked up at him, a grin on his face.

"Hi, I'm Jack!" He said and stuck his hand out. Jaime turned such a sickly shade of white North felt it prudent to move them all inside.

"Might we come in, Jaime?" He asked, all the while shifting Jack and himself further into the doorway and away from prying eyes. Finally, Jaime regained his senses and nodded numbly, motioning them towards the living room.

"Did I do something wrong?" Jack asked, looking up at North with his brown eyes. His fingers were already undoing the laces on his boots. Within seconds they and their sock companions lay discarded by the door.

"No, Jack." Jaime sputtered and forced a pained smile. "Why don't you just go play with Sarah for a few minutes."

Jack smiled and took the little girl from Jaime's waiting arms. He set her down by her dollhouse (North's present to her last year), and coaxed her into a game. She was still very sleepy. Soon giggles rang from their little gathering. North and Jaime sat on the couch.

"How did this happen?" Jaime asked, fingers absently tugging at the hem of his shirt as he watched his oldest friend playing with his daughter.

"Jack had an accident." North supplied lamely.

"Accident? North, what kind of accident could do this?" He gestured quite plainly towards the boy. "Tell me the truth. Now."

North sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Old enemy of mine captured Jack. Stabbed im four days ago though stomach with staff."

A look of anguish crossed the young man's face. His eyes glanced to the brown head of hair. "That can't be all." He said, voice hoarse.

"Ee died two nights ago, Jaime." North felt the tears welling up in his eyes again. Felt himself subconsciously fight them back down. "We were ready to bury boy when ee woke like mortal from sleep. Not even scratch remains of wound."

"When were you planning on telling me? Were you going to just let me wonder when he was coming back? He died and you didn't think of me. It's been four days, North." Jaime was angry and righteously so. No one had thought to tell him his dearest friend had passed. They had been very selfish.

"I am sorry," North replied quietly. "We were so busy trying to keep boy alive we lost minds."

Jaime sighed and rubbed away the tears that were snaking their way down his jaw. "How long did he suffer?"

"Two days."

Jaime cringed, his eyes locked on the grinning face of his childhood friend. Sarah laughed again and poked Jack in the ribs, eliciting peals of laughter from him. He had always been very ticklish. Discovering this, Sarah dug her little fingers into his side, giggling as he curled in on himself, laughing so hard tears fell from his eyes.

"Sarah! Stop that!" Jaime cried before standing and pulling his daughter away. He uncurled Jack and lifted his sweatshirt. His eyes scanned the boy's side, his hand coming to a rest on the spot where wood and pierced the skin. Jack laughed again.

"Hey! That tickles!"

Jaime pulled Jack's sweatshirt off of him, ignoring the boy's protests, and checked him over more closely. Jack scrambled to put the jacket back on, the tee shirt doing little more than expose how painfully small he really was.

"Jaime, stop." North said and stood up from the couch.

"I need to see it!" The man insisted.

"Jaime, you're scaring him!"

Jaime tore his eyes away from Jack's stomach long enough to look into his eyes. Fear and uncertainty rested there. "I'm sorry," he mumbled and pulled Jack into an embrace. At North's suggestion, they took a trip into the kitchen, leaving Sarah and Jack to play once more.

"Ee remembers nothing, Jaime. Not you or me or stab wound."

"Why did you bring him here?" Jaime was at a loss.

"Because pole and other places of guardians are not safe. Not with enemy from past still looking to kill Jack."

"North, I can't take him! I've hardly got enough money to support my own family. I've been banking on my kids being good this year so they'll have something under the tree other than candy and dollar toys because I'm doing great just keeping food on the table!"

North dropped his eyes. He had no idea how desperate Jaime's situation was.

"I sold my car yesterday to pay the heat bills till spring. He would suffer with me and I would have no idea how to care for him."

"I am sorry, Jaime. We had no idea eet was dis bad."

North pressed a check into Jaime's hands. It was more than enough to cover any expenses for Jack. "Eef you spend light on Jack, eet will cover Christmas present for children. They are on nice list and will be getting the toys from me as well. We made clothes for Jack. Care is like that of any other child. Please, Jaime. Ee will die if ee stays with us. We have no where else to take 'im."

"I…"

"Eet will just be for few days. Until threat ees gone, then I take 'im back to pole."

"Alright," Jaime said.

Relief spread across North's tired and tensed features. Jack would be well hidden in this suburban life.

"Tank you, Jaime." He said and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

Sarah laughed, her long, tangled hair bouncing behind her as she jumped up and down to reach the little doll Jack's action figure had dangled tantalizingly above of her.

"She's slipping!" Jack cried. "Hurry! Catch her!" He dropped the doll into the little girl's waiting hands, cheering when the doll was caught. Jaime and North watched as the two children played for quite some time, smiles dancing across their faces. Suddenly Sarah caught sight of them and hopped up to meet him while Jack was arranging another game.

"Daddy, is Jack Frost going to stay here?" She asked, bangs covering one of her big brown eyes.

"Jack Frost?" He asked. "How do you know he's Jack Frost?"

"Only Jack laughs like that, Daddy," she replied. Jaime couldn't help but grin.

"Yes, baby. Jack is going to stay."

**DAWWWWW! I feel bad for Jaime, he's going through some tough times :( **

**I'd like to thank you all in advance for the reviews that I so look forward to reading! You guys brighten my day and every time I get one its just one more push to write a longer, better chapter faster! Thank you all for your amazing support! **

**P.S.: If you have any suggestions for where this story should go ( I have a loose idea that is screaming for reader imput), put your suggestions into the review!**

**P.S.S.: Can i get ten reviews on this chapter? I'm pretty sure that would put those les missies in their place :DD yummy triple german chocolate cake to each and every one of my reviewers!**

**Love you all!**

**Saved by Grace**


	14. Chapter 14: Pass The Whipped Cream?

**A/N: Good grief you guys! I feel like I got a novel in your reviews (so I wrote you each a little novel in response)! I LOVED IT! Sorry I didn't post for so long, I got busy then I got sick, and well, you know how it goes. Important thing now is that I posted! It's not super long, but the cutness factor that is human Jack didn't need too much space. Shout out to: **

**control of chaos: it's okay, plot bunnies are what make the world go round :) and thanks so much for the Sophie idea! She will definitely be coming into the story soon! Btw, high on caffeine people are the best (proverbial) dart boards for ideas for story ideas! No one at my house likes RotG as much as I do so I might just take you up on that! Sorry bout the cake, I'm gluten free so I can't have it either. Ice cream and crème brulee for the both of us, yay! And I agree les mis is awesome sans russell crowe. I don't know who played Enjorlas but I can't say I minded! I thought he did a fairly good job! **

**rezzkat: Pfft! Rise of the Gamblers! You are so wonderfully random you make me laugh every day! I love little Sarah too! But I think this chapter you're going to like Jack even more! Aww glad I still hold the top spot! Those les missies will fall…soon. And don't take his hoodie, gah! He's too skinny and you'll embarrass him! He needs a good Italian mama to fatten him up, lol!**

**Catflower Queen: You're very welcome and enjoy the cake! I love mortal Jack and he's so much fun to write! He's totally innocent (and totally wild) so he's super funny! Yes, they will be interacting with Jack again soon (probably next chapter) and I like your idea about the dolphin dreams! Pitch disagrees tho, so we'll see how well my plot bunnies fight against his evil….**

**GingerJerkyPear: Sorry. :( I failed and didn't update soon. But I had a legit excuse, right? Right? No? Well anyway, here's the next chapter and I'm so glad you're enjoying it!**

**Mkay well that was a long authors note. Sorry bout that—I DON'T OWN RISE OF THE GUARDIANS! **

_Where we left off:_

_Jaime and North watched as the two children played for quite some time, smiles dancing across their faces. Suddenly Sarah caught sight of them and hopped up to meet him while Jack was arranging another game. _

"_Daddy, is Jack Frost going to stay here?" She asked, bangs covering one of her big brown eyes. _

"_Jack Frost?" He asked. "How do you know he's Jack Frost?"_

"_Only Jack laughs like that, Daddy," she replied. Jaime couldn't help but grin. _

"_Yes, baby. Jack is going to stay."_

Chapter 14: Pass the Whipped Cream?

North stayed with Jaime and Jack for only a few minutes before packing up and leaving so that he didn't cause unwanted curiosity from the neighbors. At least that's why he said he was going. Truth be told, North was so afraid of what Morrígan would do to that little family—Jack included—if she knew how deeply he cared for them, that it worried him to be near them for too long. So he packed up and left before eight o'clock even rolled around. Jack had been disappointed when his first friend left, but after the promise of breakfast from Jaime, he seemed to take it much better.

It took Jaime only a hair over ten minutes to get pancakes on the griddle and Jack was bouncing around the kitchen, asking if this or that would taste good with the pancakes, quite clearly excited for breakfast time. Most of the times Jaime just chuckled and told him maybe—until he brought out the oregano and cilantro combination and Jaime was forced to tell him he'd better wait in the living room with Sarah until breakfast was finished. After leaning a little too close to the burners for comfort, Jack heartily agreed.

Eight minutes later he had a plate full of pancakes for each child and both were allowed back into the kitchen to eat. Jaime had pre-prepared Sarah's food for her, presenting her with her silver dollar pancakes all buttered and dusted with powdered sugar—a choice Rachel had insisted was better for the children's teeth.

_I'd bet money that Tooth would agree. _Jaime thought wryly. He had once been privy to one of Toothiana's famous rants about sugar choices with small children and had been so traumatized he hadn't eaten any sweets for a week. Probably would have been longer if Jack hadn't brought a whole plate full of cookies into his room and acted like they were the best things he had ever tasted. After Jaime had downed two cookies and Jack at least six, the older boy had told him it really wasn't wise to let Tooth get to him with all her sugar talks. All the same, they decided it was best not to mention their cookie party to her.

Sarah dove in right away, the powdered sugar caking her lips like snow. Jack grinned his lopsided grin and grabbed the bag of powdered sugar. He plopped three spoonfuls onto his plate of silver dollars and smothered it with a not-so-healthy helping of whipped cream.

"Woohoo! Three feet of snow!" He cried before digging into his cavity making creation. Sarah giggled before reaching for the whipped cream can. Jaime intercepted and told her she was just fine with what she had. Jack informed him from around a mouthful of pancake—powdered sugar making his breaths puff with every word—that it really was quite good that way. Jaime couldn't help but cringe through his snickering. Tooth would not be happy when she found out about this.

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Jaime and Jack both whipped around to look at who had come.

"Good morning, Jaime." Rachael said with a stern look on her face. "Who is this?"

"I'm Jack!" The brown haired youth said and grinned widely. He had swallowed his bite and Jaime was quite thankful for that. Jack had horrific table manners and if there was one thing Rachel didn't like it was a slovenly child. Or a slovenly anything for that matter. She had been up so late the past few nights cleaning furiously to wipe away her guilty conscience, Jaime had let her sleep in late to compensate. No matter how many times Jaime assured her, she still blamed herself for their empty Christmas this year.

"Oh?" Rachael raised a brow. "Well it's nice to meet you, Jack. Jaime can I talk with you in the other room for a moment?"

"Of course," Jaime responded, a flush rising up the back of his neck. He looked more like a kicked dog than a man.

Jack giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." Jack wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

"No, really. Tell me."

Jack stood and whispered to Jaime, "She's very bossy and you listen very closely."

"Jackson, are you trying to tell me I'm whipped?"

It was Jack's turn to flush. "Well if that's what it's called," He offered quietly. "Then I guess you're whipped, Mr. Bennett."

"Go finish your breakfast, young man," Jaime said, a stern look on his face.

"Okay." Jack hopped back onto his chair, crouching on the pad with all his weight resting on his toes and his shoulders hunkered. He looked like a jungle child.

"Jack, sit down properly," Jaime sighed. This boy would have to learn some manners or Rachel would throw him out by the ear until he learned. Jack plopped down onto his bottom and continued to eat without another word, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being reprimanded—or was doing anything wrong for that matter. Jaime shook his head and walked into the living room. Rachael was sitting on the couch, Jack's bag on her lap. She was holding a small tee shirt in her hands.

"Jaime, who is that boy?" She asked, worry lacing her pretty features.

"His name is Jack and his—father got into some trouble. Jack got caught in the crossfire and he's lost his memory. His father brought him here to see if we could keep him until its safe again."

"So he's the child of a criminal or something?"

"Not exactly."

"What then, the Russian mafia?"

_You're closer than you think, Rachael._ Jaime thought wryly.

"No, Nicholas has just gotten into trouble somehow. A person from his past—long before he had Jack—is threatening them. After Jack got hurt, Nick knew the boy wouldn't be safe with him."

"Jaime its sweet and all that you like to take in lost and desperate children, but we've got no money and by the looks of him that boy will eat us out of house and home!" She paused; thumb still rubbing the soft fabric of the shirt. "But by the size of this shirt I have half a mind to let him."

Jaime smiled sadly. He knew she would give in by the end. He may be a pushover, but they both loved children with all their hearts. Especially the lost ones. It was that love that caused them to bring Greg and Sarah into their lives through adoption when it was discovered that Rachael could not bear children. They both knew that even though times were hard, they couldn't have made a better decision.

"Darling, I've known his family since I was a child. They are good people and Jack is a good boy."

"Jaime they left him here with nothing but a back pack filled with a few changes of clothes."

"And enough money to pay for anything he may need and more. We can buy Christmas presents for the children if we spend it right." Jaime pressed the check into his wife's hands. She unfolded it and looked at the amount that was written out on the line in Tooth's pretty handwriting. Her face paled. It was more than enough to pay for the child.

"Jamie, we can't use the rest of the money, that belongs to Nicholas."

Jaime shook his head. "No this is his present to us. He said we could keep the rest as thanks for our help."

"I don't know if I feel right about that."

"Then how do you feel about keeping Jack for a few days? We can discuss the money later."

"I suppose a few days can't hurt," Rachel said slowly. "Besides, that will give me just enough time to get some weight on the poor thing." Jaime smiled and left her to her musings so he could get ready for work. Sometimes he could see the Italian in her mannerisms just as much as he saw it in her face. He hoped Jack liked manicotti.

Greg passed him in the hall, practically floating in his sleepy state down the carpeted floors. He turned the corner without a word and Jaime watched as he made his way into the kitchen.

"Oh hey, Jack!" he said and yawned.

"Hey! Who are you?"

"It's Greg, Jack. What are you doing in the house?"

"Eating!" The joyful voice replied.

"Oh." Greg yawned again. "Isn't it too hot in here for you?"

"Well, it's a little warm but I think I can manage."

"Let me know if you need me to shovel some snow into the corner for you or something."

"Gee thanks! I love snow!"

"We know." Sarah informed him.

Rachael was up in a flash. "Greg Bennett, you will do no such thing! Snow in my house, honestly!" Jaime smiled again and continued on down the hall. Before he closed his door he just barely caught the last bit of conversation.

"Oh for goodness sakes, Jack, that's enough whipped cream. And if you don't sit on your bum I'll make you eat out in the snow!"

"Can I really?"

**Facepalm. Jack! Gah! You're too cute for words! Your reviews were awesome last time guys, and I so appreciated the input! Lets see if we can get to 75 reviews this time, yes? **

**Oh, and I have a really busy week ahead of me, so I'm going to try and post but I can't make any promises on the once a day thing. Sorry… but tomorrow there will be one! And hopefully Monday too!**

**Thank you to each and every one of you who read, followed, favorite, or reviewed this story (and a special thank you in advance for all you reviewers for this chapter! You guys rock!) **

**Love and ice cream for you all!**

**Saved by Grace**


	15. Chapter 15: Nightmares

**A/N: Oh my gosh guys I am so sorry for not posting for an entire week! I'm a terrible person. Yup. I was super busy and couldn't write for a long time then was too tired to write. Anyways, while I was off living a life beyond my computer, you were all faithfully reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing. Major thanks to: control of chaos (sorry, not too much fluff in this one but hopefully the whipped cream you procured can provide the cavities until the angsty bunny takes another vacation.), angel grayson (everyone loves bare feet! Oh, well I guess mostly everyone. There are those few sour pusses who refuse to go out without their dainty feet covered), rezzkat (haha yeah it is a good thing they weren't there! Otherwise they might have sent me your dental bills for all the cavities you're gonna get! Jk jk and it was mint chocolate chip and you get an extra scoop because I was bad and didn't post for a week instead of a day), Catflower Queen (I think its both, Jack loves the things that most children love plus more wintery stuffs. He loves sweets and loves snow too! He's honestly got too many mothers for his own good. Just wait till Tooth gets dropped back into this disaster… thanks for being so understanding, though I'm sure I wore your patience pretty thin with this last update wait), wisteria moonseed (I threw you a bone here, sorry in advance that I had to take it away :P But I promise, next chapter Jack will step into his old shoes for a few moments just for you!) EpicDetour9 (I had a giggle fest while writing this because he was too cute for actual words so I'm glad you liked it!) Hazelfox (hopefully you didn't stop reading because of my terrible timing on this update :P so glad you liked it!), caligirlsd99 (go to bed. You've been up for far too long playing the day away. Cause soon it will be night, blah blah blah Enjolras is cute and all that fluffy stuff). **

**Wow that note was way too long, but I got quite a few reviews!**

**I don't own Rise of the Guardians. **

_Where we left off:_

"_Oh." Greg yawned again. "Isn't it too hot in here for you?"_

"_Well, it's a little warm but I think I can manage."_

"_Let me know if you need me to shovel some snow into the corner for you or something."_

"_Gee thanks! I love snow!"_

"_We know." Sarah informed him._

_Rachael was up in a flash. "Greg Bennett, you will do no such thing! Snow in my house, honestly!" Jaime smiled again and continued on down the hall. Before he closed his door he just barely caught the last bit of conversation. _

"_Oh for goodness sakes, Jack, that's enough whipped cream. And if you don't sit on your bum I'll make you eat out in the snow!"_

"_Can I really?" _

Chapter 15: Nightmares

Jaime rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped off of the bus and started the long trek towards the condo. It had been a long day, and Jack's arrival had stretched him to his limits. He walked for a good twenty minutes before the sounds rather than the sights of a fantastic snowball fight greeted his arrival. He quickened his pace. This would be Jack's first mortal day and Jaime knew it couldn't be easy on him. But, the closer he got, the more he realized that the bringer of winter was completely in his element. Jack's laughter rang far louder than the others—a sound that he had long been forcing himself to hear. It wasn't easy to maintain a belief in the unseen when one was well past the cusp of adulthood.

When the children finally came into view, Jaime saw the brown crop of hair huddled behind a snow barricade, a large stockpile of snowballs at the ready. He was laughing as the other children tried to launch their snowballs over the barricade in just the right way so that it landed squarely on his head. After watching for a few more moments, Jaime realized that it was just this tactic that Jack had been successfully using for the majority of the afternoon. The boy made another beautiful throw; his targets cry all the satisfaction he required. Jaime stood and watched for a few good minutes, just a spectator in a sport where his Jack well outmatched the others.

Finally the boy caught sight of him. "Jaime!" He cried and jumped up from his hiding place. Snowballs flew all around him and he dodged every one without even turning around. "You're back!"

"Sure am," Jaime smiled. "How was your day, Jack?" He noticed the boy was holding two snowballs, one in each of his bare hands.

"Great! I hit 'em every time!"

Jaime chuckled. "You always were a great shot."

Jack flashed him a grin and turned back for just long enough to peg two little boys that were running towards him directly in the chest. Both fell over laughing and crawled back to their side of the battlefield.

"Better get back to it, then, huh?" Jaime said and saluted him. Jack saluted, a mock expression of duty and honor plastered on his face. He spun around and ran back to the wall, laughing as he did. Jaime watched as he reached down to scoop up another handful and stumbled over his long legs. Something was wrong; his feet seemed to stick to the snow. With a cry, he clutched his stomach and crumpled to the ground. Jaime's heart jumped and he sprinted over to where the boy lay. He was convulsing, fingers awkwardly scraping at the ice beneath him.

"Jack!" Jaime cried as he fell to his knees beside the boy. Jaime turned him over and pulled the slight frame into his lap. "Someone please go get help!" He begged. Blood was blossoming from a tear in the blue fabric of Jack's hoodie. "Hold on, Jack, Hold on," Jaime murmured and ran his hands through the brown locks. Color came off on his fingers, revealing snowy white beneath the pigment. The boy's temperature rapidly began to drop as he smiled widely as Jaime. "Hurry and get someone!" Jaime yelled, horrified that the children acted as though they could not see the child in Jaime's arms. They continued to squeal as snowballs were thrown. Jaime took off his coat and wrapped it around Jack's frail shoulders. The boy convulsed again, back arching and leaping in terrible pain. But that empty smile still remained.

"Jaime…" He whispered as the healthy glow melted from his skin. The winter winds picked up around him. "Don't be scared."

"It's going to be alright," Jaime choked out, holding a hand to the wound in Jack's stomach. The blood on his gloves began to freeze as it made contact with the boy's skin. Jaime tore off his gloves and pressed his hot hand over the wound. Jack winced once as the heat seeped in. But it didn't last long—Jaime's hand was coated with frost within seconds. "Just stay calm, buddy."

Jaime watched as the remaining color melted off of Jack's hair, leaving a smear of brown on his jacket. Jack's eyes began to flutter.

"North! North!" Jaime screamed. "Help me!"

"Hi, Jaime," the weak voice in his arms said. "I…remember…you."

Jaime smiled shakily and ran his bloody fingers through Jack's hair. "You just rest now."

"I'll be alright," the boy managed. "I have you to—" Jack's voice was cut short as another convulsion brought his breath in with a gasp. He flickered for a moment, loosing his tangible form and regaining it a second later. He was like a hologram. He gave another smile, eyes wide. "They don't believe." He said. "You don't—"

He convulsed and flickered again.

"No! Jack, I believe! I believe in you!"

"It's better this way," The boy whispered. Very slowly he began to fade, his eyes dimming. Jack went lax a few seconds before he disappeared. A sob sat tantalizingly within Jaime's throat. Not allowing him to breathe. To swallow. Even to cry. The only thing he was allowed to do was lift his lands through the air where a body once lay. Jaime sat there for a few moments, listening to the children scream in delight and looking at the blood glistening on his fingers. The wind bit at his skin.

_How could they not have seen him? How could they not have heard his cries for help? How? How could they have been so cruel?_

Jaime sank his fingers into the snow, letting it wash him clean as it numbed both body and mind. Jack Frost was dead.

Screams of delight turned terror tore him from his thoughts. From his grief. Two little girls ran past him, wailing for help. Jaime stood quickly, eyes scanning the street. A large troll with a long white beard was grabbing children and strapping collars around their necks with recipes attached to their leashes. _North?_

Jaime picked himself up off the ground ran towards them, a twisted, sobbing battle cry jerking from his throat. The monster caught sight of him, milky blue eyes twisting in their sockets at his rage. But size comes with a price, and he was too slow to react to Jaime's body slamming into his. Both tumbled to the ground, leashes falling from beefy fingers. The beast grinned and threw him by his leg into a telephone pole. The air left Jaime's lungs and refused to return. The beast stood and walked towards him. Realizing he was no match, Jaime lay still and stopped trying to fill lungs made with lead. He knew he was about to die.

"North, please!" He gasped.

The troll snarled.

_At least the children are safe. _He thought as the beast drew out a long, crooked stick. Jack Frost's crooked stick. With a throaty chuckle, the troll rammed the staff through Jaime's chest, pinning him to the ground.

Jaime screamed and fought against the strangling tendrils that were wrapped around his chest. He was shaking badly, tremors rocking his entire chest and arms. Someone was screaming at him. He just wanted them to stop. Just wanted them to let him die. Jaime clenched his eyes shut, closing off his view of the children running away from the monster that already had roped a few more of their friends into its clutches. Twenty little faces passed his eyes though clenched lids, twenty innocent pairs of eyes that were being hunted. But when he opened them, there was only one face hovering above his and one pair of eyes. Rachael.

Jaime sat up with a gasp, fingers fumbling frantically to loose themselves from their cotton prisons. Rachael jerked the sheets and blankets back and his hands shot up to grasp as a chest that was very much so whole. Rachael was gently stroking the back of his neck, fingers wrapping in the hair that curled along the nape from the lack of a haircut that he could not afford. "It was only a dream," She was whispering, throwing that phrase in among the numerous sweet nothings that were meant to calm him down.

"Jack," Jaime said, his voice as strangled as the legs he fought to free from the covers. He flung his legs over the side of the bed and ran down the hall. A golden glow from the living room pulled him up short. The sandman had stationed himself at Jack's head, monitoring his dreams with a concentration so great he didn't even notice when Jaime burst into the room. To his credit, Jaime didn't do much by way of greeting, just a murmured hello while he knelt by the couch and set a hand on Jack's head. One leg off the couch Rachael had made up into a bed, Jack was a tangle of long limbs and sheets.

The boy took in a deep breath and mumbled incoherently in his sleep as Jaime shakily checked him for pulse and wounds. Thankfully devoid of one and not the other, Jaime halted his frantic searching and pulled the boy into his arms. Jack woke just enough to scowl indignantly and yawn before Jaime began to speak.

"Only a dream," the man murmured over and over again into the brown head of hair.

"Was it?" The boy asked sleepily. "It was such a nice dream then."

Jaime scoffed incredulously before Sandman, sensing the dream that Jaime had had, stopped him before he could reveal it to Jack. Poor child didn't need any more bad dreams.

"Hi, Sandy!" Jack said and sleepily waved before asking if he might go back to sleep now.

Jaime let him settle back into the cushions of the couch; relieved to know that Jack was still alive and well. He chuckled as Jack tossed again before smushing his face back into the pillows. He wore only a large tee shirt—one of Jaime's— and a pair of boxer shorts. Jaime remembered trying to get him to wear the pajamas North had packed before bedtime, a plea to which Jack had only laughed and said he would be much too hot before begging for Sarah to stay up for ten more minutes so he could finish his story. They had spent the whole day playing in the snow and now the guardian of fun was spinning a wonderful tale of a little girl (Lady Samantha he called her) and her brother (Sir Greyson was his name) and how they saved a village from the witch with the help of a runaway slave boy who had served in her house. To be honest, Jaime couldn't have come up with a better bedtime story. Nothing was evil or bad (the stuffs nightmares were made of) just jealousy and a mean streak that needed to be remedied for the heroes to prevail. The only one that ever was injured was the slave boy who remained unnamed and rarely seen throughout the entire story. But even then it was only a scraped knee and he quickly recovered.

Sandman rested a small golden hand on Jaime's shoulders, his eyes soaking in the terror from the unspoken dream.

"I'll be alright, Sandy," Jaime said with a tired smile. "It was only a dream."

The sandman only replied with a mirroring smile.

"Could you watch over him for me? I—"

A wail sliced through the still air of the sleeping house. Jaime was up in a flash, bare feet thudding on the carpeted floors. He threw open the first door on his right, little Sarah's room. The child was whimpering in her sleep, sweat plastering her blonde bangs to her forehead. Jaime woke her as gently as he could and held her while she cried. When she finally calmed enough to speak it was only to choke out a few fearful words about the tooth fairy before she began to cry again. Jaime sat in silence while she cried; his had rubbing small circles on her back to calm her down. Somewhere past the ringing in his ears he heard Rachael get up and tend to a sobbing Greg in his room. Snippets of dreams of rabid rabbits snaked their way through the hall and into his daughter's bedroom. Bunny had always been Greg's favorite—besides Jack of course.

Once both children had been calmed, they all gathered together in Jaime and Rachael's room while the black of night began to wane. A sleepy Jack joined them a few moments after and the little family welcomed him in with open arms. They sat together while the sky streaked with pink. Sat and listened as the day opened with the screams of children all around the town.

~:o:~

Pitch watched from the shadows of the great pillars that held up Santoff Clausen as North set his head in his hands, utterly exhausted. The little sandman had come flying in two hours prior, signing in his ridiculous form of communication that the children were screaming in fear from nightmares all around the world. He smirked as the grainy dream maker flew around the room in the same frantic form of pacing he had been tracking for the past hour. He was beside himself and it was absolutely beautiful. He had seen inside the nightmares, seen his evil form stealing children's parents. Seen troll North, rabid Bunny, and gargoyle Tooth. Had felt the fear of those he so desperately tried to keep innocent and happy.

Pitch chuckled softly to himself, they had no idea what is they has just been thrown into. But just as they remained unaware of the form that hid in their shadows, Sandman remained unaware of the steady shifting and swirling of the sands on the bottom of his left foot.

All the lights on the globe still twinkled. If anything had changed at all it was their intensity; each affected light burned a little brighter. It was a comfort to the guardians and a comfort to the Nightmare king. They thought it was because the dreams were not strong enough to cause the children to waiver in their devotion, Pitch knew otherwise.

_Foolish Guardians. Every idiot knows that fear is only a catalyst to belief. They may still believe, but their love can only be stretched so far. Then you will see what becomes of those who slight me. _

**A/N: So, what didja think? Spout off in the review box and drop me a comment or suggestion. You guys make this story worth keeping up with (if it wasn't for all the views I would have stopped a number of chapters ago). Can we get to 90 reviews on this chapter?**

**So my life just got exponentially busier and I can't keep up the posting every night. Sorry, but that's just the way it will have to be. I will try (emphasis on try) to post every other night. I promise I'm not dumping this story, just taking a little longer to make sure everything is perfect for you guys!**

**Many thanks and yummy French toast (with whipped cream of course) to all my lovely reviewers 3**


	16. Chapter 16: Nöel

**A/N: I'm not dead! Yay! But life got real and it got complicated schedule wise so although I'm not taking a hiatus from this story, the last few chapters (yes there's probably only going to be 19 + and epilogue at this point) will be up much slower. I don't want to force myself to write when I'm too tired because the only thing you will get it worthless drabble and I will get sick from lack of sleep. Sooo they will come, just slowly and hopefully well edited. Anyways, thank you guys so much for all your amazing support! Special thanks to: rezzkat (haha yeah all nighters are brutal! And yes here is my answer to your wish: I updated eventually lol. Hopefully it won't be this long until the next update!) **

**JuleBeilschmidt (yeah I love their complicated relationship too! Glad you liked the way I did it, I was hoping it wouldn't leave too many unanswered questions!)**

**Don't touch my Seaweed Brain (Yay! I was so worried that this chapter sucked and it makes me feel better than you guys really liked it! And yes he did. The only reason Jack doesn't get them is because pitch thinks he's dead.)**

**N.a. Brun (So glad! Again, I thought it was terrible, then again I don't like this one all that much either, but hopefully they were both good enough to post)**

**And finally, Guest (That is so sweet! Thank you so much! Sorry posts have been so slow in coming!)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. If I did I think they would fire me for being tardy with my chapters . **

_Where we left off:_

_All the lights on the globe still twinkled. If anything had changed at all it was their intensity; each affected light burned a little brighter. It was a comfort to the guardians and a comfort to the Nightmare king. They thought it was because the dreams were not strong enough to cause the children to waiver in their devotion, Pitch knew otherwise. _

_Foolish Guardians. Every idiot knows that fear is only a catalyst to belief. They may still believe, but their love can only be stretched so far. Then you will see what becomes of those who slight me. _

Chapter 10: Nöel

After all the pink faded from the sky, the screams of the children finally waned, leaving behind an eerie silence. No children begged their parents to go out to play in the snow before everyone else ruined Jack Frost's Christmas present. No youths tried to steam open their Christmas packages. No toddlers laughed at the sight of all the pretty lights that adorned the trees, because though their lights still shone on the globe at the pinnacle of the world, the light within was bending to fear.

The Bennett household was no different from the rest. The children were quiet, minds still dwelling on the terrors that wreaked havoc behind closed lids. The parents were not much better. Since they had woken up, each had a little ache or crick somewhere. A cough that would not stop, or a swelling of lymph nodes that could just as easily be allergies as it could be the cancer they so unwillingly thought was a possibility. Morrígan had planted thoughts of illness in each of their minds with a little help from Pitch. She didn't have the power to really touch all of those beyond the age of believing in her enemies, but then again she didn't need to. She knew it need only be the thought of sickness that would cause coughs and aches that would in turn create a worry so strong it would impair their ability to soothe their children's sobs.

Poor Jaime, as an adult and a believer, was plagued by both attacks. So exhausted, he was tempted to take the day off. But he knew his family needed every penny that he brought in, which left no room for sick days. He left his family eating a quiet breakfast in the kitchen at seven o'clock sharp, joining the ranks of many other parents who wished they could stay home instead. In some ways, Jaime felt like it was better to leave than to stay. The silence that shrouded the home was a heavy one, not even sparing Jack in its onslaught. The boy was more quiet than Jaime could ever remember him, just eating his oatmeal without complaint, joke, or request for more sweets (something Rachael would have denied him anyway). Even Rachael stopped her morning mutterings as she bustled about, her movements much slower and less deliberate than usual. The pain in her stomach was sending twenty different scenarios which ran the gamut of food poisoning to cancer neither of which they could afford.

After the dishes were cleared away, a task that Jack had appointed to himself once having been kicked out of the kitchen far too many times while food was being prepared (he liked feeling helpful, but apparently tarragon in scrambled eggs was simply not done, and really this was the next best way to show his appreciation to the Bennett family for taking him in), he went into the living room to sit with his "cousins". They were lounging around in their silence by the time he arrived, and no matter how many jokes he told or pranks he played, he couldn't get more than a fleeting grin.

For three long days Jack agonized over his foster family's happiness, trying desperately to find a way to make them smile again after the nightly horror shows. Trying desperately to make Greg laugh or help Sarah make another dolly bed out of a tissue box and the last few tissues. But just as Greg always ended up just smirking and turning back to his drawings or the television, Sarah would end up wiping her nose on the tissues he supplied and trying to fight back the urge to take a nap. No one would go outside with him and he would rather be hot than lonely. Unfortunately, when everyone's current state was taken into consideration, he was both hot any lonely, two things that yanked at his very strong sweet tooth. Poor Rachael was going to have a coronary if she had to pull any more cans of whipped cream, suckers, or Christmas candy from the hands of a bored, desperate, and very overheated Jack. Tooth had already had several when she found out how many cookies he had been consuming behind Rachael's back.

By the third morning, Jack had had quite enough. When he came into the living room after cleaning up breakfast with Rachael he found Sarah was putting forth no effort in her little game of dress up with her favorite dolly and Greg was just laying upside down off the couch while he counted imaginary dust bunnies under the chair (in reality his mother never would have allowed those to collect). Honestly the boy was just glad to be thinking of Bunnies that weren't rabid and trying to cleave him from stem to stern with frothing, yellowed fangs.

Jack huffed and slung his long legs up over the back of the couch, hanging next to the blonde haired boy. "You know, I heard this story once about a boy who stood on his hands for two years just to prove that he could," Jack began, offering a quirky, upside down grin. Greg turned and turned his mouth up in the semblance of a smile.

"Oh yeah, Mr. Memory?"

"Of course! You don't mean to tell me that you never heard of it, do you?"

Greg shook his head, the blood rushing to his face from hanging for so long coloring his cheeks in a blush so red it couldn't have been truer if a girl had just kissed him. "What happened?"

"Both his feet fell off because his hands kept mocking them. They went off and found a man who lost his so they'd feel appreciated."

"Jack!" Greg made a face. "That's a horrible story!"

"It's a true one."

"No, its not."

"It's as true as the dreams you've had and it's as true as the ones Sarah's had. Now if you want to believe what you saw, then by all means keep on wallowing in it. If not, then join me in the land of the living and lets get on with it. Dreams are dreams, Greg. They're not anything but passing thoughts, no matter who puts them in there. They can only hurt you if you let them, and Buddy, you've been letting them."

Greg sighed. "You don't understand, Jack. They feel real and they're terrifying. I don't know why you're not getting them."

"Just because they feel real doesn't mean they are. You're letting the dreams win. Everyone's been having them, Greg. Something is going on and I'm not going to just sit here and watch you take it with open palms."

"Well what do you want me to do Jack, just ignore them? It's Christmas Eve and half the city has their chimneys blocked up and doors locked because their kids keep dreaming that Santa's trying to eat them!"

"Well good grief if a dreams enough to make them give up Christmas presents then they deserve coal." He paused and rolled off the couch. Come on, let's just go outside. It'll help you feel better."

Greg grumbled that he didn't want to, but Jack wrestled both him and Sarah into their boots and jackets despite their protests and herded them out into the fresh two inches of powder that lay atop the six inches of packed snow.

"Come on," He encouraged, shoving one hand into his hoodie pocket. "Let's make a snowman."

No matter how many times Rachael pleaded with him to put on his jacket, Jack refused because he always got too hot. Finally Rachael just accepted that her small victory of the promise of boots when outside was going to be her only one with this winter child. After all, a hoodie and activity was better than watching him face plant in the snow in an effort to get cool after she forced him to wear it one afternoon. Jaime just chuckled at him and let him do what he wanted. He had learned long ago that Jack could not be reasoned with when he got it into his head that he did or didn't want to do something. Four months of North's fruitless badgering for Jack to learn to swim had only resulted in the guardian of fun spending a good portion of August hanging between the wintry parts of the world where he was needed and languishing in front of Jaime's air conditioner. After hearing hours of complaints that it was "too darn hot in his house" and "why can't I just leave the freezer open", Jaime finally sent a letter to North asking him to stop. A hot Jack was a cranky Jack and that was just no fun.

Jack grinned and formed three small balls of snow, dictating who was to roll which one for how long. Greg and Sarah followed his lead mindlessly, far too tired to argue with his self appointed majesty of fun times. When he finally allowed them to stop rolling he put all the balls in a line and inspected them. Shaving off a little ice here and there, he eventually deemed them satisfactory and lifted them onto each other with his spindly arms and sent the siblings off on face pebble collection duty. When they returned, he let them place the mouth and nose, saving the eyes for himself. He admired their handiwork for only a moment before turning back to his "cousins".

"Now wasn't that fun?"

"No."

"No?" Jack frowned. "Why not?"

"Because it just wasn't, Jack."

"Well I'm sure if you wanted to have fun it would have been plenty."

Sarah huffed and sat in the snow.

"Let's just go back inside, Jack," Greg said. The older boy was about to admit defeat and go in when the opening and closing of doors and the shuffling of many boots caused him to look up. All the mothers of the complex had seen the Bennett children out playing in the snow with Jack. For days they had been silently begging for anything that would give them the excuse to send their children outside. If anyone could bring their children out of this depression, it was the "Funny Jack" that they all realized—even if only in the very back of their minds—held a striking personality resemblance to the spirit of winter that seemed to be the favorite imaginary character of the neighborhood's youngsters.

Jack's face lit up when he saw others were coming out to play, but after trying unsuccessfully to start two snowball fights, he gave in and worked at rooting out the problem. No stupid dream was going to steal his thunder.

He sat them all down and asked each and every little boy and girl why they were so very sad. Wanting nothing more than to bury the memories, some declined to say. Others, wanting nothing more than to get them off their chest in the hopes that maybe it would make it a little better, quietly told him of their nightmares. After six confessions, Jack began to see the pattern and started organizing them into groups based on which guardian they dreamt about. Each brave soul was given a perfectly packed snowball and told not to throw it just yet. When every child had been asked, Jack returned to the ones that had declined to share and gave them another chance to give up a little of their sadness in exchange for a snowball. There was not one child who declined.

When all had been heard, Jack stood straight and tall before his ranks and looked out on the twenty little faces that were ruddy with tears and cold. He felt their burdens now. Felt them and knew how best to lift them.

"You all know what has been happening these past few nights," He said, making eye contact with some of those whose dream was particularly strong. It was always the most passionate of all of the believers. "And I know telling me about it will not make them go away because you're scared. But you don't have to be scared of them anymore."

"But you can't keep them from coming, Jack," little Harry from down the street said.

"That's true," Jack replied. "But if you're only scared of it if you loose. So to not be scared you have to beat it."

"How can we beat up a dream?"

"Easy!" Jack said and stood up to his full height. He puffed out his chest and set his brow in a thick line as he faced the group of children whose fear was of Santa Claus. "I'm going to eat you!" He growled and ran towards them. One little girl screamed and threw her snowball at him, hitting him squarely in the face. He heavily swiped the snowmelt off his face with the back of his hand and continued on, growling and staring down each little child until they hit him with the snowballs. As soon as an attempt was made, he set his sights on someone else, chasing them around until there was not a one left who had feared the bringer of presents who hadn't taken a shot at the troll. "I do not want to eat such gamy children," He spat, "You fight too much." He turned and trudged away, transforming as he went from the troll to a gargoyle, his face contorting and feet flying through the snow faster and lighter than ever before as he chased down all the fairy lovers.

One by one, group by group, they all destroyed the stars of their nightly terrors, Jack's rendition so real it was no trouble at all to see a troll instead of a boy and sand instead of hair. Only Jaime, who was watching it all unfold from the window, could see past his fear to the boy underneath the many monsters. He watched with a sad but strong pride as his Jack took every blow—some of which were quite direct and were sure to leave bruising—in stride. A part of him wanted to stop this before Jack got hurt, but the other, stronger part knew that the boy understood everything that he was doing. Understood the consequences for the joy of his friends. And he wouldn't take away Jack's right to make that choice, no matter how many times he had to pretend to die.

Finally, every monster was dead and every fear had been lessened, even if it was only a little bit. Jack only needed a little bit of room to wiggle in and make it bigger. Just a little room to freeze the water that runs through the cracks in those rough and rocky exteriors so that it expands and cleaves it right down the middle. Splits it to reveal the gems inside.

Jaime watched as Jack sat down once more and all the children, still a little leery of whether he was a nightmare or not, edged closer. He smiled at them widely and turned to the Tooth Fairy lovers before telling them of the beautiful feathered lady with the iridescent wings who has the prettiest teeth he had ever seen. Of how she loved his teeth and always told him to floss. Of how she was like a mother to him when he didn't have anybody. Of how she was his very first memory. If there was anyone who could be more like the tooth fairy than her, he wanted to get a good look at her.

He turned to the Sandman dreamers and spun a tale with large, emotional gestures of the little golden man who could make pictures out of sand. Of a sleepy, but kind smile that reminds you of how you feel right after you just wake up from a wonderful dream. If there were a soul more like the sandman than that sleepy little fellow, Jack would rather think of Sandy as the bringer of good dreams than him.

To the Easter Bunny believers he described the anchor of his earliest remembrance. Of his new beginning. Covered in fur and topping six feet with those long ears, he had been strong yet gentle. A warrior for good through and through. He didn't think there could be any more rabbits that large so Aster must be the Easter Bunny, no questions there.

And finally, to the Santa Claus seers he gave the very special description of North, the only man he knew who could hold so much sadness and so much joy all at once and still keep it all organized. He had lists that helped, and lots of helpers to share some of the burdens, but the wonder in his eyes that spoke of both the young and the ancient was something that Jack could never fathom. If there was anyone, anyone at all who could handle the great responsibility of making a very special toy for every good child in the entire world, it was he. To Jack, the sleigh was just the icing on the cake.

He sat and told them stories until it was smiles not somber frowns that played on their lips. He shared with them those little things that he had kept stored away deep in his memories until they were needed to make it so that laughter not tears preceded a glad hearted snowball fight. He played with them despite the bruises he exchanged for their laughter until their mothers called them all back in to be with the family; it was Christmas Eve after all. And for every moment, Jaime was at the window, watching with a lighter heart than he had had for far too long.

**Oohh the fluff! I figured after another Jack death scene you guys needed a little fluffy/ meaningful break! This was my stress reliever so if it's a little wordy I'm sorry bout that. Spout off and tell me what you think! I can only get better if I know what I'm doing wrong and believe me your suggestions don't just go in through my eyes and out through my ears, I actually pay attention to them and attempt to make changes and implement the suggestions. Thank you so much to each and every one of you who read, followed, faved, and reviewed this chapter/ story in general! You guys are the fuel for that little nagging voice at the back of my head that says "You still have responsibilities! Nag nag nag! You need to write! You're bad and need to write something for them or they will be angry!" thank you all and happy Valentines Day! 3 3 3**


	17. Chapter 17: It Only Takes One

**Hello All! Sorry for the lateness in posting, I've been absolutely swamped with life and this chapter **_**refused**_** to end itself. So it went on, and on, and on, and **_**on,**_** for thirteen pages! I guess it decided you guys deserved a nice long chapter to make up for my lateness! So I went to the library and shamelessly picked up a stack of children's books, among them was The Man in the Moon! Sob! It was great! And I made my family (all of them) watch the movie and they loved it!**

**Thank you all again for all the hits, reviews, follows, and favorites! You guys are the only reason this story has lasted as long as it has under this incredible duress!**

**And now for some shoutouts!**

**Catflower Queen: This next chapter is literally chock full of comparisons (and Sophie, per what I believe was your request)! I wonder if you can catch them all? Thanks for the wonderful comments and I hope this chapter makes up for the late posting! 3**

**Sora Tayuya: You have no idea how much fun it was for me to read all your reviews as you were posting them! I loved getting a glimpse into your mind as you read the story and your insight was really helpful! Thanks so much and I hope you like this next chapter!**

**Caligirlsd99: don't even know why I'm doing a shout out because I see you every night, but YOLO! Jk jk. But I love writing these fan fics with you and thanks so much for editing it for me! Hugs!**

**Don't touch my Seaweed Brain: Not too much action in this chapter but I promise, next chapter is going to blow your socks off! I really tried to put some in here, but plot bunnies kept kicking me in the face and screaming that I **_**had **_** to write some fluff before I did what I was about to do… oh well :/ hope you like this chapter!**

**Rezzkat: this next one is fluffy too, sorry! But the next one will be a real nail biter! Don't think this counts as posting **_**soon **_**but I think it falls under the category of posting **_**eventually. **_

**Now, ON TO THE CHAPTER!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians**

_Where we left off:_

_He sat and told them stories until it was smiles not somber frowns that played on their lips. He shared with them those little things that he had kept stored away deep in his memories until they were needed to make it so that laughter not tears preceded a glad hearted snowball fight. He played with them despite the bruises he exchanged for their laughter until their mothers called them all back in to be with the family; it was Christmas Eve after all. And for every moment, Jaime was at the window, watching with a lighter heart than he had had for far too long. _

Chapter 17: It Only Takes One

Pitch slumped down in his chair, boredom more potent than the fear that the poor forest sprite cowering in front of Morrígan was offering him. With a cry, the youth turned to ash when she drew him in with the staff and drunk him dry.

"Do you have to kill them so quickly?" He scowled.

"Well what else am I supposed to do with them? Offer them tea and scones?"

"He wasn't easy to come by and you devoured him like there were twenty more waiting in the basement."

She rolled her eyes. "Can't you find something more worth while to do than complain?"

"I could if I was allowed to leave this stinking prison! We've been sitting on our hands for days, Morrígan. I want to do _something_ before I go stir crazy."

Morrígan pinched the bridge of her nose between two long fingers and took a breath before she responded. "I am not your babysitter, Pitch. Find some way to entertain yourself or so help me I will—"

"You'll what? Kiss me?" He spat. "It's Christmas Eve and you haven't so much as offered up a plan of attack."

"It's Christmas Eve?" Morrígan sat up a little straighter.

Pitch rolled his eyes. "Yes, it is and fat man is probably getting ready as we speak. What do you propose we do, _Darling_?"

She was silent for just a moment before a smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Nothing."

Pitch sputtered. "Nothing?! What do you mean 'Nothing'? We've got every advantage and you want us to do nothing?"

"Pitch, please. We've already got them in between a rock and a hard place. All we have to do is keep up the nightmares and he'll singe his jolly round backside on at least twelve fires by the time he's hit the first town. He's so out of it he'll probably think that Frost kid is smacking him across the face while he's flying. We don't have to waste any energy defeating an already defeated spirit."

Pitch seemed to think about that for a few minutes before grinning wickedly and retiring to his room to send out another string of nightmares to the children of the world. Morrígan grinned.

"Your move, Nicky," She whispered.

~:o:~

North locked his jaw as he sat at his desk, the ornate wood sitting beneath his massive fingers as innocently as the scimitars that sat collecting dust in the corner. They should have been covered in the dust of nightmares by now. But fear and death hadn't made any move to destroy them physically, hadn't attempted to skewer them on their respective weapons or drink them till they were dry. No, they had sent a barrage of nightmares to the children of the world, detailing horrific versions of the very ones that spent every waking moment attempting to protect them.

At first they had thought that Morrígan had failed when the lights hadn't so much as flickered by the first full night, but as time passed they began to feel the pain begin in their joints and the slight fluctuations in power. By the third evening their minds had begun to dull. The barrage of belief in fear was attacking not their bodies, but their center. Tooth and all her minis struggled to remember who had lost a tooth and where (more often than not the tooth hadn't been placed out of fear anyway). Bunny couldn't quite bring himself to paint an egg that didn't look like a beautiful disaster. Sandy's luster had dimmed and with it went the futile attempts to break through the nightmares. They were too strong to be tossed aside and the great dreamer was simply too tired to force his way in. Poor North had been hit the hardest; his lists had begun to scramble and no new ideas or planning strategies had been brought forward in the most critical of times. The yetis had been attempting to plan on last years specifications, but many new children had been born or had come out of gift receiving age, and it would not do to have these good little youngsters go without when they deserved a reward.

_Poor little ones._ North thought. _They deserve so much better of a protector than me. I couldn't even protect the child who holds the most special of the places in my heart. I couldn't even stop her when she… _But North was unable to complete his thoughts, the string of conscious ideas far too unstable for the shades that were consuming his center to sustain. So he sat there for hours, hoping and wondering if the others were having a better time of retrieving their duties than he was before he couldn't remember what his duties were in the first place. Oh they came back in snippets, allowing him a few precious minutes of clarity where he could be productive before the yetis would have to escort him back to his office or his quarters so he could rest for the big ride that evening. There was nothing they could do to really help him, they couldn't deliver the toys or ride with him to help, their bodies not equipped to handle long periods of in air travel.

Finally it was time and a few of his trusted helpers set out his winter's night suit while the others loaded and prepared the sleigh. The other guardians were waiting for him in the globe room, having decided to set up headquarters for their nightly duties in the sleigh to be of any help to their friend. Even Bunny agreed to ride the full twenty-four hours above the ground he so loved for the sake of his friend. He had already lost one family member to this monster and he was not about to let another slip through his fingers because of a petty phobia.

It took North an irritatingly long time to dress and prepare himself for flight, but when he finally emerged, his friends met him at the door and didn't leave his side until Bunny and Sandy climbed into the back and Tooth settled in beside him in the drivers seat to help steady his hand.

The reindeer were antsy, that much was obvious. They were used to a strong-handed master, not this unsure and uneasy bundle of confusion and sorrows. But after a few moments to breathe and a flick of the reigns they were off and on their way.

~:o:~

Jaime stood at the front of the driveway, looking out on the three hours of work he had yet to accomplish before Sophie and her family—along with his mother—would arrive. The red shovel was clenched between two mittened hands and feet were already stamping from cold. Jaime sighed and stuck the tool into the snow bank that used to be his sidewalk. It would be a long afternoon.

Four feet and a string of under the breath expletives later, exhaustion and irritation were not the only adjectives he could use to describe his ailments. Leaning heavily on the shovel, he decided to take a break. He had come upon all four current members of the Guardians checking up on his mortal ward the past three nights while he was making his rounds to rouse those who were trapped in the nightmares. Sandy came back every night; his glow a little dimmer and his temper a little shorter. Pictures were terse and angry, pain written across features that spoke not of weakness, but of caged discomfort and irritation at his inability to think clearly. It was a look Jaime had seen on Pitch the night of his defeat, and it was not just Sandy that was affected—Tooth, North, and Bunny had all undergone the transformation.

It was torture for the man to see them all in such a state, but there was nothing more he could do than care for Jack while they tried to hold it all together. Jack always woke when they came to visit him, smiling and telling them all about his day (skipping over the sneaking of sweets if Tooth was present) and how excited he was for Christmas. Jaime could see it in their eyes how much it hurt them to see him that way. If only they could have seen him that afternoon! If only they could have seen how a mortal child with no memory stood up to the nightmares of a neighborhood full of children, vanquishing fear like it was a bug to be stepped upon. If they only had, then they might have the strength to fight as he did.

_Wham!_

Jaime lurched as a snowball smacked him directly in-between the shoulder blades, throwing him forward onto the shovel. Jack laughed from his hiding place across the yard. If only he hadn't seen what the boy had just done he might have it in him to be truly angry. As it was he was a little more than irritated.

"Jack!" Jaime cried and dropped the shovel. He loped toward the snow bank where he saw the brown head of hair, trudging through the powder as he followed the sound of laughter.

"Lighten up, Jaime!" He heard. Kid sure was fast.

Jaime shot a glare in his direction.

"Aww come on! It's Christmas!" Another snowball clocked him on the side of the head. The cuteness factor was wearing off quite rapidly.

"Frost!" Jaime roared and took off at a sprint toward the sound of mirth. Bending down, he grabbed a fistful of snow and threw it at the bright blue hoodie that danced atop the powder. He wanted to play hardball? Fine.

Jack dodged it and launched one of his own, hitting his mark. He was an irritatingly good shot.

"Jack, I don't have time for this!" Jaime said and wiped the snowmelt from his ear. "I've got too much to do before they get here!"

"If you don't have time to throw a snowball—or in your case get clocked with one—then you're doing something wrong!"

"Easy for you to say! Snowballs are your job, not mine."

"My job is snowballs? Cool!"

Jaime sighed. "Just let me finish with the driveway then we can play. Aunt Sophie can't pull in if there's all this snow in the way."

Jack's interest perked. "Who's Aunt Sophie?" He called while he jogged over to him, another snowball in his bare hand.

"My younger sister." Jaime replied. "Can we just hold off on the _fun_ for an hour or so, my back's killing me and I've gotta get this done.."

"I'll help!" Jack said with a wide smile and took off for their garage to find another shovel. He came back toting his prize in his left hand, the wood pole looking every bit his staff if not for the large, red piece of plastic on the top. "Found one!" He said and started in on the snow bank. Jack was already three shovels in before he realized that Jaime was still watching him. "Aren't you going to help?" He asked.

"Hit you pretty hard, huh?" Jaime said and motioned to the bruise on Jack's cheek that he had been trying very hard to hide with his hood for about three hours. A blush crept up Jack's neck to color his cheeks.

"It wasn't. I'm fine."

"Oh I know. I saw what you did, Jack."

"Oh." Jack looked at his feet, boots laced as loosely as he could get away with. He was picking at the hem of his sweatshirt.

Jaime put a hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Jack."

The boy looked up. "You are?"

"Yeah. You did something good there. Granted I didn't like watching you take twenty snowballs to the face, but I know why you did it and I'm proud of you for that."

Jack grinned again and shoveled another bunch of snow to the side. Jaime dug in next to him. They continued on in that fashion for nearly ten minutes, happy to be in each other's company. When they were almost halfway done Jack broke the silence.

"Why did you call me Frost?" He asked without missing a beat in his rhythmic shoveling.

Jaime, however, missed two or three. "I called you Frost?"

"Yeah. But my last name isn't Frost."

"What is it?" Jaime asked. Jack had never talked with him about his mortal life, so an appropriate mortal name had never come up.

"It's…" He paused and leaned on the shovel, hanging on it just as he usually hung on the staff. He scrunched his nose in frustration. "Well I know it's something."

"You don't remember?"

"No, I guess not."

"Then I suppose Jack Frost will have to do, won't it?"

"It's a little cliché, don't you think?"

"Oh believe me, it fits you perfectly."

Jack shrugged in acceptance and dug his shovel back into the snow. Rachael had cranked the heat up far higher than he was comfortable with and just the thought of that furnace working so hard made him appreciate all the snow outside. The kids, however, were quite pleased with the balmy atmosphere. They were summer born and happy being so.

Jack spent quite a large amount of time badgering Jaime for descriptions of Sophie and her children after that. Wanting to know if they believed in the guardians and who their favorites were. Pestering him to know whether or not they liked snowball fights, or if they were the sharing type of children or the ones that needed to learn how.

After another few minutes of constant questions, Jaime suggested that he work backwards and start at the end of the walkway instead of bumping elbows with Jack with every shovelful. Honestly, he just wanted to put a little space between himself and the twenty questions record player until his patience returned. Jack agreed and worked in earnest to reach the halfway point before Jaime did, unable to do anything without turning it into a game. Jaime ignored it at first, continuing on with his shoveling without regard for the increase in pace of his partner. Jack would look up and smirk at him before leaning down with a chuckle and throwing another shovel full of snow over his head. A few smirks later, Jaime stopped in shock to find that, not only was the driveway clear, but that his brow was set and his arms tense in the anticipation of competition. Jack whooped, declared that he won and pegged Jaime with another snowball before grabbing both shovels and heading towards the garage. Jaime just stood there with what he would later remember must have been a very dumb look on his face. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. They had been at it for an hour and a half and not once did he feel any pain in his back. He was decidedly sore now, but for a while, he had felt normal once again.

Jaime was pulled from his thoughts by the distinctive crunch of chained wheels rolling over snow. It was a sound that had broken the silence for the past three hours in much the same way as their shovels had broken the snow. Every time a car would pass, Jack would stand up straight and try to see if it was their guests. No matter how many times Jaime told him they wouldn't be there until four, Jack asked after each car all the same.

It was now four fifteen and the familiar clicking of the radiator on his sister's car reminded Jaime that Sophie was always fashionably late.

"Hey, Jack!" Jaime called.

"What?" He called back.

"They're here!"

"They're here?" Jack whooped again and sprinted through the snow, his loose boots leaving sloppy prints in the already pressed snow. He slid to a stop beside Jaime—or rather Jaime grabbed him by the hood to keep him from giving his poor sister a heart attack. It was at that unfortunate moment that he remembered he had forgotten to call her to explain what had happened.

Jaime cringed when a smile spread across Jack's face when he saw little Ana, Maria, and Renee jump out of the car, their mother hot on their heels.

"Hello, Sophie," Jaime said with a warm smile and a strong grip on the hood of Jack's sweatshirt.

"Hi, Jaime!" The bundled up blonde pushed her unruly hair up out of her face, securing it with a headband and good amount of determination. She waited patiently for her girls to hug their Uncle Jaime hello before she gave her brother a hug. "It's good to see you!" She said into his coat. A little tug on her bag sent it sliding off her shoulder. Releasing Jaime, one hand shoved the many idea journals and sketchbooks back into their satchel while the other reached for a tissue and wiped the nose of her youngest.

"Yes, dear," She asked.

"Mummy, I has to go to the potty," little Renee said and wiped at her nose again.

"Well I'm sure Aunt Rachael has a bathroom you can use. Hurry now, you don't want our Jack to get a nip at your nose, you're cold enough already!"

"I don't nip any noses," Jack grumbled.

"Sophie's eyes shifted for the first time onto the teen Jaime was keeping firmly anchored to his side.

"And who is this, Jaime?" She asked.

"I'm Jack," Jack introduced himself with an offered hand and a wriggle in an attempt to loosen Jaime's hold. "And I'm not gonna bite her, Jaime, you can let go."

Jaime let go of the hood when Sophie chuckled. "Jaime," She said. "Will Jack be spending Christmas with us?"

"Yes," Jaime replied. "I'd say he's earned it."

"Well alright then," she said and glanced back at her husband. "But you know you aren't funny when you dress him up like our Jack just to get a rise out of me. You're rarely ever funny, you know."

Jack chuckled. "Boy don't I know it!"

Jaime scowled. "Sophie," He whispered in earnest as he shrugged off the jab. He grabbed her wrist before she could flit off somewhere else. "This is our Jack."

"Our who?" She distractedly asked as she watched Mark, her husband of seven years, pulled the bags of presents out of the trunk.

"This is our Jack, Soph. _Our_ Jack."

Sophie turned back around and pushed her hair back once again with the headband that refused to stay. "Our Jack?" She asked and bent down to get a look underneath that hood. Brown eyes stared incredulously down into brown eyes. But that smart nose that speaks of a good heart and the mouth that was upturned in a way that just hints at mischievousness was enough to get her to push back the hood to get a better look. She squinted for a moment before her chilled little fingers hooked under Jack's chin and lifted his head. She turned him once to the right and once to the left before something shifted in her incredulous expression and she nodded.

"So it is." She whispered with a smile. "It's very good to see you again, Jack. I don't suppose you would remember me?"

Jack shook his head, still wondering why everyone insisted on man handling him and questioning him half to death.

"Thought not," she said with a grin and straightened up before turning back to the car and her other two little ones. "Let's go little bunnies, hop, hop, hop!" She said and shooed them all inside, taking a present bag in hand.

"Sophie…" Jaime started, grabbing her wrist. She turned to face him.

"Jaime, I don't want to know. I just want to enjoy him while he's here." And with that she turned back to her little line of bunny hoppers and shooed them inside.

Jaime stared at her as she disappeared into the flurry of furnace warmth, baking cookies, and warm embraces. She had certainly dealt with Jack better than he had.

"So that was Aunt Sophie, huh?" Jack asked from beside him, pulling him out of his reverie.

"Uh, yeah," Jaime replied and scratched the back of his head. "Lets go on in then, I'm sure Rachael will be waiting." And with that, both he and Jack relieved Mark of his laborious load of packages and piled into the heat of their little apartment.

The next few hours seemed to fly by as quickly as North's sleigh could streak across the sky. Sophie's children soon took a liking to their brown haired "cousin" and he spent most of the evening with one of them on his back, another in his arms, and little Renee latched onto his leg. Needless to say, Sarah pouted for a few minutes when her new playmates schedule seemed to be dominated by the Christmas intrusions. But after he saved her a spot next to him for dinner she forgave him whole-heartedly. For her part, Sophie did her best to pull them off of him every once in a while so he could take in a full breath, but he didn't seem to mind.

Dinner was an extravagant occasion to say the least. Everyone pitched in a little bit: Sophie and her family paid for the side dish ingredients, Jaime's mother for the turkey, and Rachael did all the cooking. Sophie couldn't cook to save her life; she could write a children's book but for some reason lost all patience while cooking even the simplest of meals. The food was wonderful and Jack did not short his foster mother on complements of her cooking.

"So good!" He would say with his mouth full. She would never respond or acknowledge the remarks with anything other than a small, proud smile.

"Jack, sit down properly. And don't talk with your mouth full!" She would say and ladle more food onto his plate. She'd been stuffing him to the brim at every meal and coaxing him onto the scale once a day since the morning he arrived. She could satisfactorily say she had put a good six pounds on Jack Frost in only a little over a week. Jack, always distracted, would plop down on the chair and chew a little more slowly before he would focus on something exciting and end up hunched on his toes again.

By the time dinner was over, even Jack was looking drowsy, the majority of his energy going towards the digestion of Rachael's winter meal. He soon found himself lounging on the floor with the kids in the living room while the adults (sans Jaime who had been kicked to the floor and tasked with relieving Jack of the little leeches who were latched onto every available inch of him) squeezed onto the couch. They watched the children play for a few minutes, engaging in little more than mindless conversation while four clingy little girls went from literally climbing all over Jack—who was once again playing the part of the monster—to sitting in rapt attention as he began a story.

Sophie quieted the moment she heard him begin, having been in the same position as her daughters when she was their age. Jack was the best storyteller she knew, and it was him that taught her to love them just as much as he did. Now, thanks to him, she was a writer by profession and parents read her stories to their children all over the world. It was a wonderful job and she was good at it, but by no means could she spin a tale as effortlessly as Jack Frost. She had never met anyone with his talent in all her life.

She listened as he began by setting up the scene, describing a world where it was always winter but never fun. No one played and no one was happy because it was far too cold to be so. Children grew up and had children of their own without ever being happy, stuck forever in a world incased in ice and snow. The people thought it would always be this way and accepted it as an unfortunate but unchangeable truth. Then one day, a boy took his younger brother and four little sisters out to gather firewood with him. He saw a beautiful fallen branch up in a tree, the perfect shape and size for a walking stick. So he balled up a handful of snow and threw it at the branch. It knocked loose the stick, but the snow ladling the branch also came along for the ride when it fell. Well, the boy caught the branch and his brother caught the snow. Only a little mad but mostly just cold, the boy took up a handful of snow and threw it at his older brother to get back at him. But the brother dodged and one of the sisters got hit right on the shoulder. Well foul shot led to foul shot—you can't really blame them for their bad aim, it was their first time—and the very first snowball fight took place. It ended in a draw, a lost tooth, and far too much laughter for this forest of tears.

When they got home that night, they told their parents of their brand new game. Their parents were quite proud of their ingenious little children, but they were worried as well. Who would find all those little teeth that would get knocked out if this continued? Who would help them discover new ways to bring joy into their lives with additions to their games? This new game seemed dangerous, but they couldn't help but want that the smiles that were present on those little faces for the very first time would come back again. So the Mama took a vow to take care of all the little teeth and wrap up all the scraped knees, and the Papa decided to go to his room at once to make the very special thing that he had been thinking about since he was very young.

The next day the children went out again, forgoing their chores in their rush to visit the clearing where the snow was powdery and deep. They built forts for themselves and stocked up on snowballs and when they returned each day it was with another of their neighbors children who wanted to come and play. It didn't take long for the word to spread, and before long snowballs were flying in the streets of town as well as the woods!

The Papa finished his project after a few days and gave the very first gift on December 25th, a most special day on everyone's calendar. Oh how they played with their Papa's gift! A sled he had called it and so sledding they went, for hours they slid down tree littered hills, knocking out more teeth than the Mama knew what to do with! Eventually, the Papa made more of his sleds and the little children handed their teeth off to the mama even if they hadn't knocked them out playing with her children.

For years and years the playing occurred and a change happened among the people. No longer were their faces set in frowns and their mouths full of curses for the snow. No, they glowed with the anticipation of another snow day for their children and chattered amongst themselves about their own memories of when they had played in the snow as well. So strong was their newfound happiness that it broke winter's hold on their village and the ground began to thaw. With the exit of winter came a new season, which was called spring, and with spring came a newcomer who eased the blow of the loss of their snow with new games of hide and seek for the children.

The eldest son, now a man by his own right, stayed in the new spring for only a few weeks before taking off to find were winter had gone. The children missed him terribly, but their new spring friend reminded them every day that there were new games to be played until their winter friend would return. To ease his absence, the winter child sent a storyteller with golden hair back to his village to tell his children stories every night until he would come back.

For years and years, spring turned into summer and summer turned into autumn, but one morning, with the gentle fall of white snowflakes, came the winter that the boy had tracked down and brought back with him for another season of games and fun.

Winter was now a gift not a curse, and there were no more sad faces in the village of ice and snow. The protectors of the children remain even today: The Papa still makes sleds for his children and the Mama still collects all the baby teeth so her babies can grow up and remember all the fun they had. The Spring Man still plays hide and seek every time the snow melts and the Sandy haired man still tells them his stories every night before they sleep. And the winter child, the one that started it all, still roams behind his season, playing with any children he can find along the way. If you pay attention, you just might see him playing on those beautiful winter mornings when the sun shines through the icicles like diamonds. You just might catch him before he moves on.

By the time Jack finished his story, his hoodie had been shed and his audience had been silenced in rapt attention. It had been an unusual story told by a very unusual boy, and the exaggerated arm movements just added to the air of magic and mystery that always seemed to hang about him.

The spattering of applause brought Jack back to reality, and he realized for the first time that he had stripped off the sweatshirt sometime during the story, allowing everyone to see him in just the tee shirt. He blushed and twisted the hem of his sweatshirt between his fingers absently. Rachael stood and relieved him of it.

"It needed to be washed anyway, Jack," She said with a smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder. "You told a wonderful story, dear."

He grinned and let Sophie take center stage as the focus shifted to the gift giving time. He happily faded into the background, watching as the children tore into their packages with a zeal only found on Christmas and Birthdays. Happy shouts twisted harmonies with the sounds of a joyful Christmas celebration, and the Winter Child couldn't have been happier to just be a part of it. So happy was he at merely being present, that when Sophie turned to him and said she and Jaime had a very special present for him, he couldn't have been more surprised. He waited in anxiousness while Jaime disappeared around the corner, the child within him building up his excitement with every second. When they returned, they sat two, small parcels on his lap.

"We were going to wait until tomorrow to give you these, but Sophie wanted to be here to see you open hers and I wasn't about to be left out!" Jack chuckled and grabbed Jaime's, ripping open the paper with nimble fingers. A small book lay in his hands, an ornate pencil and sharpener—so it wouldn't freeze like ink in a pen—tied to the front with a strip of ribbon. It was a beautiful gift.

"These are for your stories, Jack," Jaime said. "Open it,' He said with a grin. Jack untied the ribbon and set the pencil aside before opening the cover. There in Jaime's scrawling penmanship was a little message:

_Jack, _

_I've known you for longer than you can imagine, had more conversations with you than can be remembered. The things you have taught me through the years are lessons that I will never forget and always will cherish—much like you—and though I often thought I had discovered all there was to know about you, you surprise me still. Your heart for others brings joy and wonder to my life, and I can say with all assuredness that I don't know how I would live if you were not here. I will always remember you and I hope that this present will give you something to hold on to when you move on, something to remind you of our time together and of all the stories you told. Thank you for all you have done for us—for me. _

_I will never forget you, my Guardian of Fun, my Jack Frost, my Best Friend,_

_Jaime_

Jack cradled the blank book, his brilliant smile lighting up the room. Seconds later, gift still clutched in his hand, he threw his arms around Jaime. "It's perfect! Thank you!" He said and pulled back. Jaime chuckled and motioned for him to open his other present. He managed to calm himself down enough to open the next present without shredding the paper. As far as Jack was concerned, these were the first presents he had ever received. Soon, the paper was gone and in his hands sat yet another book. At Sophie's suggestion, he rifled through the well-worn pages, seeing illustrations and little paragraphs penned in black ink.

"What is it?" He asked, curious as to the identities of the smiling figures within.

"It's my next book, Jack. I'm letting you be the very first person to read it cover to cover. Not even my husband, wonderful as he is, was given that privilege."

Jack grinned and turned to page one. Eyes skimming the pages, Sophie watched with pride as the star of her newest children's book laughed at his own antics. It took him only seven minutes to read it, but she drank in every minute, every smile, every laugh. When he finally closed the cover, Jack looked up at her with a grin as wide as the sky.

"That was great! I love that guy who keeps freezing the elves! What was his name again?"

"Jack."

"Oh, right. It was kinda sad, but he was such a great character! You really have a gift, Sophie," He said and handed back the book with respect. She blushed, and with a little prodding, she read it out loud to the family. She blushed at every chuckle and stammered whenever she would look up to see that those big blue eyes turned brown were watching and listening as if he were meeting himself on paper for the very first time. By the end of the evening, she had been assured that it would be a very big hit.

A short while later, the yawns and tired faces made their nightly appearance and the guests of the Bennett household began to pack it up. They retrieved the scattered toys, relieved a yawning Jack of the four little bundles that were either on his lap or cuddled up against him, and said their goodbyes. Once they had left, Jaime and Rachael said their goodnights and put the children to bed before heading to bed themselves. For his part, Jack tried to stay awake to meet North the moment he came that night, but it was so very hard to keep one's eyes open when so much fun had already been had…

~:o:~

Tooth gave the reigns another jerk, landing—albeit sloppily—on a rooftop in Boston and waiting for the others to help North down the chimney. She had had to relieve him of his driving responsibilities after they almost went down over the Atlantic. They were lucky he could still find his way into the many homes that were locked and had the fires blazing (a welcome present from the Nightmare King himself).

Bunny sighed as Nick slipped his way down the non-smoking chimney and rubbed the back of his neck. "Maybe we should just call it quits, Toothy. He's not gonna last much longer."

"No! We can't give up. If we give in to her, we loose and that is **not **an option, Aster." She softened her tone when she realized she had been yelling. She had been doing that quite a bit, lately. "Besides, Burgess is coming up on the list soon, we have to leave something for Jaime's family and Jack. We can't let them down."

Bunny nodded and turned back to help North up out of the chimney. He smiled at them weakly and sat down beside Tooth.

"Two more cities then we're at Burgess, North." Tooth chimed as she brought the sleigh back into the sky. "Then we can see Jack." North seemed to go a bit lax beside her, but she knew it wasn't from relief in seeing their comrade. It was the understanding that they were only a little over halfway done and were far behind schedule. It was not a good place to be in for Santa Claus.

The two cities passed in a whirlwind of almost crash landings, mixed parcels, and strings of Russian profanities that just confirmed how horribly long it had taken them to accomplish what they had. North was fading.

The ride to Burgess was, for the most part, silent. Silent up until the moment they passed into the airspace of the town and exclamations began to explode as minds were suddenly cleared of the fog that had overcome them. There was something special in the air of Burgess.

"It's gotta be him!" Bunny cried with a grin as North grabbed the reigns out of Tooth's waiting hands and deftly steered them onto the first rooftop. Down and back up in a flash, it was his quickest trip of the evening but by no means his record for the night. House after house, fireless chimneys opened themselves up to the bringer of wonder and toys and the smiles on the faces of the Guardians only got bigger the closer they got to the apex of the revolution. Soon they touched down on the roof of the Bennett condo and every one of them wriggled their way down the chimney.

Jack was asleep when they arrived, curled up on the couch with his face pushed into the pillow. He looked so peaceful they were a little reluctant to wake him.

"He'll want to see you," A voice whispered from around the corner. Four heads swiveled towards the sound, as alert as they had all once been. Jaime stood in the doorway, clad in a bathrobe and a smile.

Tooth smiled and hugged him before flitting back to hover over their youngest. She gasped quietly when she saw the yellow bruise in front of his ear before looking accusingly at Jaime. Rachael had sported much the same reaction before she went into a flurry of mothering that left Jack switching ice and a slab of beef—Jaime's cut of the Christmas meal—on his cheek every twenty minutes.

"Aww, Tooth. Don't look at me like that, it wasn't my fault. He got it in his head that the only way to beat the nightmares was for him to be them so the kids could fight back. Patrick from down the street had a mean throw, that's all. Told 'em all stories about you guys after all the nightmares were destroyed. He's fine."

Tooth bit back a smile. That was the Jack they all loved but rarely saw past all the snark and cheeky comments.

"You should have seen him today, North," Jaime continued. He paused for a moment. "You look much better than you did yesterday. How's it been going tonight?"

"Rough," North admitted. "But vhatever Jack did verked. I be back in business moment I reach Burgess. Ee's a special boy."

"That he is," Jaime agreed. "Don't worry about waking him, he was trying to stay up to see you. He'll be disappointed if he at least doesn't get to say hello."

Bunny smiled and walked over to the couch. "Jack, mate," He said and shook his shoulder. No response. "Gal, the lil' guy's really out, yeah?" He chuckled and shook the boy a little harder. "Cem on, Jack. Up an' at 'em." Jack groaned and rolled over before his eyes shot open and he sat up.

"I didn't think you were gonna make it for Christmas!" He breathed with a grin and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Not make it for Christmas? Nonsense, Jackie, of course I make Christmas!" North laughed, perhaps a little too loudly for a house filled with sleeping people, but to the rest of the guardians it was the sound of pure relief.

Jack told them about his Christmas with the Bennetts as quickly as he could manage, packing an entire day into two minutes while he snuck peeks at what it was North had left under the tree. The Cossack caught his stare and once Jack finished, he motioned to Sandy to knock the boy out before he tore through the beautiful stack of presents North had personally assembled before his decline. But Jack had other ideas and was on his feet before Sandy could get him. Unfortunately, his ascent wasn't quite high enough to avoid getting clocked in the face with the spray of dream sand. He collapsed in a heap on the floor, half way to the tree. Sandy cringed in apology and North accepted the task of maneuvering the teen back into bed while the others finished their arrangements of special gifts. By the time Jack was back on the couch and covered with a blanket, they had finished and were ready to go.

Renewed by their visit with Jack, the four remaining guardians found the strength of mind to finish their task. The last present was dropped off just as the morning rays of Christmas Day sunshine began to peek over the horizon in Johannesburg, South Africa. Exhausted yet victorious, they returned to the Pole for a well deserved rest.

~:o:~

Morrígan stood beside the window of her castle, teeth grinding and black ice flowing from the staff she held in her grip. Though her taking it had been mostly for show and less for function, she had come to favor her newest weapon above swords or her long bow. How a simple stick could carry so much power was beyond her. How Nicholas and his infernal band of idiots managed to deliver a planet full of gifts in one night after all the provisions they had set was _really _beyond her. She had him all but destroyed, his fear so sporadic past the destruction of his mind Pitch could hardly sense it. But in the moments he had become lucid they had reveled in the power it brought them. Now they were all but back to normal, the loss of the winter spirit the only effect still in full swing.

Pitch had responded to their defeat worse than Morrígan. Apparently, loosing twice to the same band of do-gooders was enough to drive anyone mad. He had taken the opportunity to redecorate the tapestries through the controversial art of disintegration and added to the overall atmosphere of ancient rubble by demolishing two walls before locking himself in his room for a good three hours. He had only emerged when his hunger for fear had overridden his desire to wallow in self pity for another twenty years. Morrígan could hear him stalking the halls for the stray fearling or life that had escaped his earlier fury.

"Pitch, dear, could you come here for a moment or are you entirely too occupied with your sulking?" She called. A string of expletives were his reply, followed by a not-too-subtle thumping of feet down the stone hallways. He appeared at the door moments later.

"What?" He spat.

"Oh, come now, Darling. It's not nearly as bad as you make it out to be. That wasn't the end of the war. It was just the battle that will leave the grand finale room to deliver a shocking twist. Now all we must do to prepare for our ascension is to figure out what in the name of all that is holy was responsible for that embarrassment and promptly eliminate it."

"Pitch scoffed. Easy, darling, just point me in the right direction."

"Good. Now I want you to find the direction."

"What?"

"You're the nightmare king, search some dreams and figure it out."

"How on earth do you suggest I figure out even where to start? It's a big world and there could have been thousands of influences, many of which do not even deal with the mortal realm."

"It happened over the Eastern Seaboard of the United States. Because before he reached it he was about as useful as you are, and after he was able to finish strong. I want to know when it happened and why."

"Fine." He spat and stalked from the room. The slamming of his door was the last she heard of him for a good two hours. When he finally emerged, he was—if that was even possible—twice as irritable as before.

"Came from the neighborhood Jaime Bennett roosted his brood in. Another twenty years of solitude says it was _him _that ruined our victory. Little brat was responsible for mine last time. Him and that infernal winter sprite. Worthless bunch, but they're effective if they're nothing."

"Well the sprite is out of the picture so it's just the kid we have to contend with."

"What do you suggest we do about it? We can't make him take it back!"

"Dear, dear, Pitch," Morrígan crooned. "You've gone soft over the years. There's more than one way to snuff out a light."

**DUN DUN DUN! Next chapter just might be the last so it will be long and fantastic! I'm excited just thinking about what's going to happen! Review and say what you thought of this EXTREMELY long chapter and what you think is going to happen next time! I would love to get to 110 reviews this chapter (hint hint) before I post again (not a threat just a friendly suggestion). I really would love to hear what you all thought, I was unsure about this chapter and all that was in it, but it was fun to write so I posted it! See you all soon!**

**Saved by Grace**


	18. Chapter 18: Sacrifices Must Be Made

**A/N: No point in even apologizing anymore :( It's late, I know, but hopefully soon I can catch a break and be able to write again. Until then I'll have to be satisfied with the few paragraphs I'm able to squeeze in in the middle of the night until we finish this off! Many thanks to all who read, reviewed, followed and favorited. **

**Shoutouts to:**

**John Smith: Your review was absolutely amazing and I blushed like a tomato. It was quite the sight! I can't thank you enough for reading this story and for all of your wonderful input! I honestly didn't think anyone caught all the little things I buried in that story like you did and its was a real honor to get to hear what you had to say about it. Because you wrote me a literal NOVEL in your review, I am dedicating this chapter to you. Thank you again and I'll probably PM you later so ttyl!**

**Don't touch my Seaweed Brain: Woah woah, calm down there champ! We all love fluff but there's no reason to loose one's head over it. There will be more fluff and PLENTY of angst in this two part grand finale chapter, so hold onto your pants and grab the tissue box!**

**Bug349: uh huh and trouble just touched down in Burgess if my sources are correct!**

**Guest: It will be the perfect Kodak moment. Well…almost…read and you'll see what I mean. **

** : Thanks so much for the awesome review! I blushed a little when I read it :)))) **

**Catflower Queen: I think ya got 'em all! Yeah he's a little mischief maker that's for sure! Thanks for the quote recognition! I wasn't sure if everyone would catch that… and yes, yes they are. You'll just have to read to find out what happens next!**

**Rezzkat: holy crap child calm down! You all but wrote the next chapter for me haha! And yes, Jack is adorable and Morrígan deserves whatever is coming to her! If my plot bunnies can kick my butt into gear and get writing then she will get her "reward" sooner rather than later!**

**Guest: So glad you do!**

**Guest: Thanks so much and I hope you like this next chapter!**

**Anya: Here's the next installment, hope you like!**

**Jean: Glad you like it! Sorry for the lateness of the post!**

**Guest: Here's an EXTREMELY long A/N, does that count? No? ok ill write a long chapter too….**

**Guest: Awww! I can't believe you're rereading it!**

**Camilla D: It's long and hopefully up to snuff! Enjoy!**

**Yuri: I'm thinking about it (maybe a drabble or comedy series) but I think ill just give you guys the decision and write whatever you want from a few choices. But I won't be able to start it until my life calms down in April…**

**Hey: HEY! THANKS!**

**Gil: Thank you so much!**

**Mia: Here it is! Enjoy!**

**EmperialGem21: glad you like some aspects of it! Mortal Jack can be kinda hard to get used to. I know I certainly haven't! But I do hope you won't give up on the story! There's only one more chapter after this plus an epilogue (maybe). **

**TaylorRose16: Thanks! Here's the continuation and I hope you enjoy it!**

**Whew! That was A LOT of Reviews! You guys really pulled through with all the reviews from my threat *****cough***** I mean suggestion! But if all those guest reviews were from one person just trolling me the its definitely less impressive. But either way kudos to you and without further ado here is the chapter in which I use characters that belong to dreamworks RotG!**

Where we left off:

"_Came from the neighborhood Jaime Bennett roosted his brood in. Another twenty years of solitude says it was him that ruined our victory. Little brat was responsible for mine last time. Him and that infernal winter sprite. Worthless bunch, but they're effective if they're nothing."_

_ "Well the sprite is out of the picture so it's just the kid we have to contend with."_

_ "What do you suggest we do about it? We can't make him take it back!"_

_ "Dear, dear, Pitch," Morrígan crooned. "You've gone soft over the years. There's more than one way to snuff out a light." _

Chapter 18: Sacrifices Must be Made

Sarah was the first to awake in the Bennett household. A rare feat considering Jack was usually the early bird in the mix. It wasn't often that he slept past five forty five in the morning, and even then it was only because of a wonderful dream he hadn't quite wanted to leave right away. Sandy always tailor made dreams for him that were so awe inspiring he never quite had the heart to stop them before the proper ending. But as always, days filled with play awaited on the other side, so he wasn't too disheartened to leave when it was time. It was exactly this concept that had Sarah scurrying over the edge of her princess clad bed and into her brothers room. After all, it was Christmas and there was much playing to be done.

Once Greg had been properly—albeit rudely—awakened by the little fist that tugged on his hair and the cuff of his pants leg, the little whirl wind pattered into her parents bedroom. Jaime and Rachael were a little less receptive to being forced from sleep at such an hour, grumbling past the excited squeals of the five year old while they pulled on robes and slippers. A sleepy looking Greg met them at the door, robe pulled onto one arm and tied in place, his hair an unholy mess of tangles and rats nests. He yawned sleepily.

"Where's Jack?" He asked, words half slurred and mouth musky from a good nights sleep.

"Must still be sleepin'," Jaime responded. His hair didn't look much better.

"Come on!" Sarah implored and grabbed her Daddy's hand, pulling him down the hall. As the living room opened up before them, the last dregs of sleep lost their hold on the four members of the Bennett family. The tree was aglow with lights, the little bulbs dancing and flickering in the most magical of ways as they made the ornaments sparkle. Under the bottom branches and piled on the floor in neat piles were wrapped packages, only a fifth of which had been present when the Bennett children nodded off the night before. And in the midst of it all, Jack was snoring softly on the couch.

He was draped over the backrest, one arm serving as a pillow while the other hung about even with the one foot he hadn't managed to balance on the thin edge. Jaime remembered North telling him once that Jack often fell asleep on the rafters of the workshop. Seeing Jack now, Jaime couldn't help but believe it.

"Should we wake him?" Rachael whispered with a yawn.

"Yeah," Jaime replied. A grin pulled at the corners of Jaime's mouth. He soundlessly opened the front door and grabbed a handful of snow from the windowsill. Packing it just tight enough to ensure it wouldn't break apart too quickly he crept up on the sleeping teen. In one smooth motion he shoved it down the collar of Jack's shirt. Jack's eyes shot open and he lashed out with a yelp, the momentum throwing him back onto the couch, the springy nature of which bounced him promptly into the floor. He landed with a thud and another yelp before rubbing the back of his head and scowling indignantly up at Jaime who was, by that time, practically rolling on the ground in laughter. Soon Greg and Sarah were laughing just as hard as their father, even Rachael sniggering to herself behind an upraised hand as she lightly scolded her husband.

"If you're done!" Jack said, hand still rubbing the back of his head as he scowled. All that did was earn another hoot from Jaime.

"It's not that funny."

Jaime cackled again. "So its only funny when you do it to me at five thirty in the morning, then?"

Jack scowled again and Jaime seemed to finally remember that he was the adult in the current situation and brought himself back into some state of control.

"Go to the bathroom and wash up, dear," Rachael said and shooed Jack out with a stern look at her husband. That brought him all the way back into his right mind. He spent the next few minutes trying to wrangle his children away from the presents while Rachael threw the cinnamon buns she had made the night before into the oven to cook and began to scramble enough eggs to feed an army. By the time she was finished, Jack had returned and was terrorizing an already overtaxed Jaime, the morning's rude awakening still fresh enough for him to not feel bad for making Jaime want to pull his hair out.

"Alright everyone sit!" Rachael hollered. She smiled when they all complied and handed them trays laden with food as soon as they were settled. Christmas was the one day a year she allowed them to eat in the family room. They dug in earnestly, the parents just as excited as the children for the opening of presents to commence. Jack was the first to finish, sitting surprisingly still for all the trouble he had just caused.

"You little stinker!" Jaime said from around a mouthful of food before he chased down the bite with a dreg of hot coffee. Jack leaned against the couch and smiled smugly as he sipped at the chilly milk Rachael had given him. "That was all a ploy to get back at me, wasn't it?"

"Wasn't what?" Jack asked innocently.

"You know very well what!"

"Let it go, Jaime," Rachael said lightly and wiped her mouth on a napkin before setting her plate aside. A few moments later, everyone finished their food and Rachael collected the plates while Jaime plucked three present groupings from the stacks. They were the presents from Rachael and Jaime. Smartly wrapped with razorblade edges, they were the fruits of Rachael's many hours worth of work. Little arrays of candy for each child were nestled in between the gifts. Sarah got a Barbie Doll and a pair of ballerina slippers. Greg got a new baseball glove and two card games. Jack added a set of colored pencils and a sketchpad to his growing array of art and writing supplies. After the opening was finished, Rachael watched with a smile as Jack and Greg traded candy with Sarah, all three chewing contentedly on large wads of taffy and chocolate.

Round two of the presents offered five stacks of gifts tied up with yellow ribbons. Each was covered in a paper that shined like iridescent feathers. In Tooth's beautiful handwriting was the name of each of the members of the Bennett family plus a certain frost child.

"Where did you find this paper, Jaime?" Rachael whispered as she carefully pulled the tape away and folded the paper to save for later use. "It's beautiful."

But her wonderment at the paper soon gave way to the gifts inside: motorized toothbrushes, floss and toothpaste for all, and engraved, porcelain tooth cups for both of the younger children. But it was the gift that was nestled in the very small box atop Rachael's stack of presents that brought her hand to her mouth in shock. A pendant of carved ivory hung from a chain of spun gold. Stretched throughout the chain were hints of iridescent feathers between the curls. The pendant was carved to look like a little bird, wings spread and filigreed with gold. It was a truly unique and truly beautiful present.

"Jaime…" She breathed. "It's beautiful! But," she paused. "We agreed we wouldn't get anything for each other so…I have nothing for you."

"It's not from me. I wanted to get you something but we agreed to wait until it wasn't so tight." He smiled and hooked the clasp around her neck. "Looks like someone thought you deserved a little something special this year." He whispered.

"It's from Toothiana!" Jack informed her as he nimbly picked his way though the piles of paper and gifts to get to the tree. "Greg, heads up!" He said and threw a shimmering, yellow bag over all of their heads. Greg caught it and his little sisters in succession, setting hers down beside her and waiting until everyone else had gotten theirs and Jack was once again seated before tearing though the tissue paper. Every member of the Bennett family received a sleeping bag and a thermos for summer camping nights, a color scheme carefully chosen for each and every one of them.

Sarah immediately unrolled her bag, only requiring help once when the knots caused her little fingers a bit of trouble. Crawling inside, she explored her new gift and all its possibilities. What was just a sleeping bag to an adult was to a child a cardinal game piece. It was a tunnel, a racecar for the stairs, a secret hiding place, and so much more.

Thrilled as she was with her new present, Sarah couldn't help but squeal in her excitement when she found another gift at the bottom. A blanket of the softest fleece she had ever felt lay against the zippers, a little blue nightlight nestled within its folds. Pulling out her gifts, she unfolded the blanket and pulled it around herself. It was just small enough to be convenient, but just large enough to wrap her in the warmest of hugs. Just the feel of it around her made her sleepy as she held her nightlight between her fingers.

"Jaime," Rachael whispered earnestly past the excited chattering of the children over their gifts. "We can't afford all this."

"I didn't buy them." Jaime replied with a grin. "This must be Nick and his Family's way of saying thank you for taking Jack in."

"But we didn't ask for all this!" She was far too proud to accept charity. Even from Santa.

"No but they gave it all the same. Trust me, doing this for a kid is what makes them happy. I'm sure if they could see Jack right now it would only be the icing on the cake for them. Let's just enjoy the fact that our kids are having the Christmas of their lives right before our eyes."

Rachael bit her lip but she didn't stop Jaime from handing out another round of brightly packaged gifts. Stacks of pastel colored boxes littered with candy filled eggs spanned nearly every shade of the rainbow. The children, like always, tore through the paper with a vengeance, smiles growing ever wider at the gifts that were given. Sarah immediately tried to open the box of finger paints that Bunny had left for her, much to the chagrin of her mother and the very white—and now just a little bit green—carpet. Rachael couldn't help but smile at the basket filled with seeds for a full-blown spring vegetable garden (and Jack couldn't help but think that Aster might have overdone it a little bit on the carrots). Jaime couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud at the six bottles of vegemite he got—the proud culmination of teaching Jack the vegemite song nearly fifteen years prior. Jack's box contained two leather wrist guards inlaid with aquamarine stones, smaller versions of the ones that Bunny wore. It took him two minutes of diligent working with the laces but once on the craftsmanship was wonderfully apparent. But the special gift recipient of Bunny was without a shadow of a doubt Greg. Nestled in the boy's box was a pair of polished boomerangs, perfect in size and color. Each was carved from a single piece of wood, covered in wonderful, ethereal designs that hinted at battles won and beauty protected.

North's gifts were last but by no means were they the least. Greg tore open his new sled and baseball cleats, whooping in joy. Sarah just smiled and cradled her new teddy bear as she looked at the china tea set and dollhouse furniture. It certainly was a step up from the empty tissue boxes she was used to playing with. Rachael was practically glowing as she pulled a full set of pots and pans with various cooking utensils and recipe books from her bags and Jaime had a similar reaction as he opened up a brand new coat, set of boots, and a portable grill for summer cookouts.

A note sat in the bottom of Jaime's new boots. Contained within it were messages from each one of the guardians, expressing their thanks for all his help with Jack. They knew the presents couldn't make up for all they had put him though, but they hoped it might help to reward his family for how wonderfully they had welcomed him in.

Jaime watched as Jack opened his presents from North, laughing as the boy lit up at finding a snowboard, boots, and a set of thin, waterproof gloves within the packaging. He watched as Jack opened his second gift, a simple plastic mold that seemed to hold so much meaning for so simple a possession. And watching as Jack ran his fingers over the plastic lettering that spelled out igloo on the side, Jaime wondered if the guardians would ever understand that Jack hadn't ever been a burden. He had been a blessing, no matter how short his stay would be in their little family.

It wasn't long before the children were all begging to go outside and play with their new toys and Jaime, never one to let them down, was the first one to throw on suitable clothing and run out into the two feet of perfect snow that waited. Jack would have been first but Rachael insisted on forcing him to put on jeans, his hoodie (which was still a bit warm from the dryer), boots and gloves before allowing him to tear through the sea of white. As it was, he still managed to smack Jaime in the shoulder with a snowball before the man even got to the other side of the yard.

They spent the morning completely content in their games. Jaime got a good hit (finally) on the guardian of fun, Sarah took a ride on Jack's new snowboard and Greg's sled, Greg managed to balance on Jack's snowboard for a full twenty seconds (twenty seconds he was very proud of), and Jack had the pleasure of laughing at Jaime and Greg's attempt at an igloo. It looked more like Stonehenge if you asked him.

Finally his pity for them overrode his mirth and Jack joined in their efforts, creating a structure the eskimos could be proud of. Once it was done, Jack was wrangled into having a tea party inside the fort with Sarah, drinking air like the queen of England until his pinky was about to fall off while Jaime and Greg had what sounded like a wonderful snowball fight. He couldn't have been more jealous.

Soon the laughter began to blend with the dull thumps of snowballs hitting their mark and Jack started to get squirmy. He could only say "yes-madam-I-would-love-another-spot-of-tea-and-an other-one-of-those-lovely-ladies-fingers-if-it's-n ot-a-bother" so many times before humoring her started to mess with his brain. It was the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground and a string of muffled pleas that pulled him back to his senses. Shushing Sarah, Jack slowly crawled out through the opening to the igloo and peered around the edge. Something was not right. Poking his head out, Jack just managed to see Jaime's unconscious body slung over the back of a giant black stallion, a squirming Greg in the grasp of a tall man with Hair as black as tar. Beside him floated a woman dressed in mist and carrying a crooked staff.

Jack didn't know why he didn't cry out when he saw his family being taken. Didn't know why he didn't make any motion to stop them. Couldn't understand why a childish squeak was all his could muster before shame drove him back into the igloo with an almost-curse hot on his lips. Jack grabbed Sarah by the arm and rushed her inside the house with a promise to return soon before slamming the door and tearing off at a run towards the forest. Towards his family.

Trees flashed by him, growing larger and closer together the deeper he went. The kidnappers weren't hard to follow. The fear that grew in the pit of his stomach and the smell of decaying flesh were as good as a beacon. He ran for all his might, against burning lungs and legs, adrenaline scowling indignantly at exhaustion because frankly he was a bit too preoccupied to properly put it in its place himself. So preoccupied, in fact, that he almost missed the jingling of bells and the strings of Russian curses as a bright red flash of jolly streaked across the sky. They didn't notice him, continuing at breakneck speeds until landing rather roughly in a clearing just ahead. Jack arrived just in time to see North and the others pile out of the sleigh, weapons and hackles raised and ready.

"Release 'im, Morrígan!" Jack heard the Cossack yell. He peeked from around the tree, the sight of Greg and Jaime on their knees in the snow enough to clench his heart. "E has no'ting to do with this! No part!"

The woman laughed. Her voice sounded like the purr of a lioness—beautiful but deadly. "That's where you're wrong, my dear. This brat has ruined far too many plots to be allowed to continue on his merry way. We narrowed down the point of origin of our little setback last night and Burgess lit up like a nuke. From there it wasn't too difficult to track it down to the home of your very special believer. This ends now." She turned to her companion. "Pitch," she said with a wave of her hand. The creature beside her grinned a sickeningly sharp grin and pulled together, grain by grain, an arrow of black sand.

Jack was running again before he even registered that his legs were moving. He was diving before he realized he had stopped running. And he was falling far too long after he felt the arrow rip his chest apart. He did it all wordlessly. He sacrificed without a thought. But what was there to think about? Jaime was friend, family, brother, and father when he had nothing. He was nothing but _bother _and it felt good though the agony to know that the one he loved enough to die for was going to live another day. So he lay there, content with his decision and at peace with the knowledge that with each breath he was one step closer to death.

Jaime however was not quite so content. He screamed. Whether from fear, or anger, or sorrow he screamed as he lurched his way over to the shuddering but still alive body of Jack Frost. He gathered the boy into his arms, confused by the slight smile that lifted the corners of the mouth that was stained crimson and sickened by the sight of bloody sand that was bubbling up from the wound.

He vaguely heard someone else scream as the sounds of battle filled the air. Shrieks of nightmares rang chaotically through the clearing. The ting of scimitars, the dull thumping of boomerangs, the flash of Technicolor wings and the singing of golden whips failed to do anything other than disturb the peace and stain the trees, all dressed up in their wintry Sunday best, a tar-like black. There would be no reaching them past the sea of nightmares. Not in time to save Jack.

"No, no, no," Jaime murmured and pressed his gloved hand to the wound.

"S'okay," Jack slurred as the pressure on his chest threatened to pitch him into unconsciousness.

"You missed," Morrígan spat.

The guardians did nothing but continue to yell.

But Pitch didn't say a word. The brat was wide open now, and the little bother (who was probably one of the foolish neighborhood children that followed Bennett around like a lost pup) obviously wasn't going to jump into his line of fire anymore. The Nightmare King conjured a final arrow and took aim. He was right; the boy didn't jump. But he did find the strength to push himself up and lean against the body of his target, effectively blocking his shot at any vital organs.

Pitch let the arrow dissipate in shock, his small waiver of fear in the face of such bravery enough to confuse his nightmares and allow the guardians a respite.

"Who is this boy?" He murmured. His eyes widened and his grey face grew ashen when he connected the dots.

"What are you waiting for?" Morrígan spat as she shot out a blast of black ice towards her enemies when they broke through a little too close for comfort.

"It's Jack Frost." Pitch replied, a waiver in his voice. "I'd know that face anywhere, it's that infernal _Frost_ come back from the dead."

Morrígan rolled her eyes at him but took a closer look just to satisfy her growing curiosity. Blue eyes turned brown met her steely gaze. No other youth would dare meet her stare. Not in over a thousand years. Morrígan ground her teeth in irritation. Apparently frost children were quite difficult to slaughter.

"So it is." She replied, placing emphasis on each word as though they were a bother in and of themselves. A crash behind her brought her back to reality. North and his guardians had overcome the nightmare army. The first grips of panic threatened to tease her. They had broken through. Her show of power had been thwarted by a sacrificing toddler in a blue hoodie. She had already killed said toddler once before. But if Morrígan was anything she was level headed, and since her execution had failed she might as well try a hostage situation. It took little effort to snatch the nearly unconscious boy from his protector. She sent her mist above them and used the snow globe portal to spit the both of them out on top of the growing platform, holding him upright by hooking one of her hands around his chest and under his arms. He sagged against her and coughed. Blood spewed out of his mouth.

North's battle cry rang through the forest as he thundered towards them, hell bent on ripping Jack from her hands. Morrígan watched him for a moment before calmly gripping Jack's head in her free hand, the staff hanging from her elbow by the crook.

"One more step, Nicholas, and I'll break his neck. Then we can be sure there will be no more miraculous recoveries." She said it all quietly, calm beyond reason. She knew the boy probably wouldn't live long enough for her to bargain with him for long. Under the gun took on a whole new meaning.

North halted, hands gripping his swords so hard his bloodied knuckles stood out white in spite of the crimson.

"I vill ask one time more," he spat. "Vhat do you vant?"

"You," she replied simply. "I want you, Nicholas, to halt your foolish dreams and aspirations and come back to me."

"What?" Pitch screeched. "You mean this entire time I was out for revenge and destruction you just wanted your lover back? You wasted my time, you witch."

"Honestly, Pitch, if anyone here is the drama queen its you. I'll let you kill the other four, I just want to keep our little Nicky for a while longer." She shifted Jack so his legs could straighten. "Soon to be three I'm afraid. This one's not going to wait around for you to figure out an appropriate method." She turned back to North and the other Guardians. "So what do you say, Nicky?"

"Never!" North spat. "I vill kill you!"

"Wrong answer. Since you obviously can't make a proper decision regarding your own life, lets try tinkering with someone else's instead. New choice: I will either kill Jaime, the father of two with a loving wife, or Jack, the innocent boy you love like a son." She grinned, lips spreading to reveal bleached teeth. "It's do or die time, baby. Better choose fast!"

North stood in silence, teeth grinding and swords at the ready. How could he, a guardian of children, condemn a child to die? How could he subject two other children to a life devoid of a father?

"Tick Tock," The celtic witch called.

Something in North snapped. "I vill not choose!" He yelled and charged forward, ready to give all that was within him to bring her story to a close with a scimitar to her heart. A spiral of mist dropped from the cloud above him and took the form of a man. Black as night and larger than even North himself, a Celtic Warrior formed a long sword from his own arm and drove the toy maker back.

Morrígan sighed. "This is like chess, North. If you refuse to play, I'll just take your pieces anyway. Jack it is."

"No!" Tooth screamed from where she stood on the ground with the others.

"Let's see, three hundred and twenty yet you still look seventeen, how fair is that, Jack?" Morrígan cooed as she shifted him up to meet her face to face. "I think we should add a little age to you just to make it fair." With a smile she molded her lips around his bloodstained mouth, sucking what remained of his mortal life in a soft stream, allowing him to age as she stripped off the years that could have been. Bones snapped and joints ripped as he grew, mutilating him as arthritis set in before their eyes and mangled his body all the more. Brown hair grew grey, then returned to white, wrinkles sagging his skin.

She let him drop to the ground as she called another shadow from the mist. A youth stood beside her, quickly joined by an identical form that was still shaping itself. One had hair as white as snow.

"It's a beautiful thing, the capability to hold onto someone's shadow, their mortal years for eons. It's not really them. It's not a spirit or a soul. If it were they wouldn't make such wonderful soldiers. Souls make them think, and these creatures are devoid of everything except for obedience and strength." Morrígan grinned. As she spoke, hundreds of shadows rose from her mist, draining it until it was bone dry. An army of ancients stood before her. She watched with interest for a few moments as North fought with her first shadow warrior. After he took a nasty hit she decided to allow him a reprieve. "Better hurry, Guardians, looks like Jackie is loosing his battle."

The shadow man stepped back, allowing them to reach Jack. Jaime was cradling him as tears flowed down his cheeks. He took what seemed like a little breath every few seconds. The ancient eyes of their youngest stared forward unwaveringly, the cataracts having turned the brown back to blue in blindness. His arms and legs lay at strange angles because broken bones and ripped muscles. Bile rose up into Bunnymund's throat when he realized Jack's back had been broken by the fall.

"Jaime," he rasped, voice broken and ill.

"I'm here," Jaime said and gave his friend's shoulder a light squeeze.

"B-be a good dad."

"I will, Jack," Jaime replied softly, choking back sobs.

Tooth reached forward and held the gnarled and broken hand in her bloody ones until his raspy breathing stopped.

Jaime sobbed and shook him, begging those open blue eyes to blink and his ripped heart to beat. Bunnymund was the only one with enough sense to pull Jaime and Greg away from the body.

"Now that that's done, you have a new choice, Nicholas," Morrígan crooned, ignoring the sobbing. "Bunnymund or little Toothiana?"

With a roar, North flushed and drove his swords through the chest of the nearest shadow man, breath hurried and angry as the creature dissolved.

Morrígan smiled. "Wrong decision," she whispered. "Kill them all."

**Evil Cliff! I had to break this one up into two parts so I could get it posted sooner and take advantage of this great cliff hanger. Hope you don't mind….**

**I don't know when I'll be able to post again, my life is a disaster of stress and constant work until the 11****th**** of April, so you may have to wait until then for me to find the time to write again. Believe me this hurts me more than it hurts you! **

**Read, review, follow and fav, I'd like to get to 130+ reviews before I post the final chapter!**

**Hugs!**

**Saved by Grace**


	19. Chapter 19: Coming and Going

**Here it is ladies and gents! The final chapter of immortal has finally arrived! Many thanks to all of you who stuck with this story from the beginning, reviewing faithfully and waiting patiently when I was late in my chapters!**

**Shout Outs To:**

**Peanut Butter Rules: Yes. Yes he is. **

**Guest: my answer to your review is spread out over the next few pages. Enjoy. **

**Jean: Thanks so much! I promise I'll write an Epilogue and probably another fan fic after this.**

**TaylorRose16: Thanks and here it is!**

**Rezzkat: I just read through all my reviews and all of yours made me laugh till I cried. You certainly have kept this deep dark story a lively process and for that I think you deserve a dedication. LADIES AND GENTS, THIS CHAPTER IS DEDECATED TO REZZKAT!.**

**xRoku: *cough* it might *cough* you'll just have to read and find out *cough cough***

**bug349: I like the angst that goes along with it so….maybe? **

**Gil: Thanks and I will! Enjoy the final chapter!**

**Cosette: Yes I am!**

**Maria loves word: haha making up ones mind is so final…. Thanks for the wonderful review and enjoy the next chapter!**

**Jeanette: Thanks and I just got less stressed! Thank goodness!**

**Guest: ummmm, okay? And glad you like it!**

**Heeeey: Hëya. Here tis. **

**And last but certainly not least: John Smith: Dude I'm speechless once again! Thank you for the fantastc review and all of the support! I hope you continue to stick with me when I write my next fanfic because I love hearing what you have to say! Thanks so much and hope you enjoy the ending!**

**So without further ado, I don't own Rise of the Guardians and I hope you enjoy the grand finale!**

_Where We Left Off: _

_Tooth reached forward and held the gnarled and broken hand in her bloody ones until his raspy breathing stopped. _

_Jaime sobbed and shook him, begging those open blue eyes to blink and his ripped heart to beat. Bunnymund was the only one with enough sense to pull Jaime and Greg away from the body. _

"_Now that that's done, you have a new choice, Nicholas," Morrígan crooned, ignoring the sobbing. "Bunnymund or little Toothiana?"_

_With a roar, North flushed and drove his swords through the chest of the nearest shadow man, breath hurried and angry as the creature dissolved. _

_Morrígan smiled. "Wrong decision," she whispered. "Kill them all."_

Chapter 19: Coming and Going

Death is like the ocean. It comes forward and combs the beach, dragging away all signs of life and spitting back the shells. It stops for no one, is controlled only by its instructions, and rarely leaves its rhythmic patterns. But like death, when it discards its boundaries its like an unfettered plague. If it can help it, there will be no survivors.

Bunnymund understood that concept better than most. His homeland was nothing more than a large island, its inhabitants at the whim and mercy of the ocean on every side. He knew enough about the ocean to have a healthy fear of it, and it didn't take him long to connect the dots between the raging waters and the torrential current of shadowmen rushing towards them. So he did what all coastline dwellers do when a tsunami is headed their way: he grabbed his valuables and ran.

Unfortunately, his valuables consisted of two mortal beings who were quite slow in coming. Jaime all but refused to leave the side of his fallen friend, feeling what probably constituted an enormous helping of survivors guilt. His son, however, couldn't find it within himself to trust the rabbit that had mangled his family nightly in his dreams.

By the time Bunny managed to convince the boy he wasn't going to hurt him, the shadowmen were far too close for comfort and he was forced to swing Greg up onto his back and drag Jaime away to save them. He ran as fast as his human companion could bear, trying to ignore the pain from having a child's hands knotted frantically in the fur about his shoulders. He pushed Jaime for all his was worth, ignoring the man's hitching sobs and breaths and withholding any comfort in favor of preserving the life Jack had given everything to protect. The man tried to wrench his wrist free more than once before Bunny stopped at the edge of town and stared him down.

"Ya wanna go back to him? Huh? He's dead, there's nothing to go back to."

Jaime stared at him numbly, jaw locked in stubborn sorrow. Bunnymund huffed. He knew deep inside him that there was no coming back for Jack this time and he knew the others felt the same. This strange yet comforting feeling was Manny's way of condoling a loss he could not lessen.

"Jack gave 'is life for ya, Jaime. E' took an arrow so you could live and ya wanna waste that by goin' back to cry over whas left! They'll kill ya and 'is sacrifice willa been for naught." The man didn't seem to respond and in that moment, something broke in Bunny. Something that had been cracking since he watched that brown haired boy jump for a man who he didn't know past two weeks, full well knowing he was trading his life for someone else's.

"Don't ya dare waste what he gave freely!" Bunny yelled, whiskers trembling with emotion he didn't dare show. "Take your boy and keep that promise ya made him!" Bunny roughly detached a shaken Greg from his fur and pushed the lad into Jaime's arms. He shoved them both towards the town with his paw. "An' don't ya dare come back."

And with that thought still lingering, Bunnymund turned tail and ran back to the battle, leaving the two humans standing at the edge of civilization.

"Dad…" Greg whispered. "Daddy, please don't leave me!" The boy started to cry, his desire to appear strong melting when he realized where his father really wanted to be right then. He couldn't bear the thought of being alone again. "Daddy…"

Jaime picked up his son wordlessly, smoothed his hair and dried his tears, then jogged him into town. He didn't slacken his pace when the streets grew more congested and didn't stop to address the many stares their state was attracting. They looked like they had been to hell and back. Rachael was in hysterics when they arrived back at the house, ready to call the police, fire brigade, and ambulances all at once when she couldn't find her husband or the children anywhere. Little Sarah had become her constant companion, never leaving her arms while the woman fretted. To say she was relieved when her husband and son stumbled through the front door was an understatement. But Jaime wouldn't answer any of her questions. He just set a still weeping Greg down on the couch, grabbed the closest blanket he could find and rifled through his bedroom closet, extracting an aging shotgun before walking back out the door.

He ran for all he was worth towards the forest. Sprinted towards the sounds of battle axes and death. Raced to meet with the dead and the dying fully understanding that he had just broken the promise he made to the very one he was returning for. He sped with bloodlust fresh in his heart.

When he arrived Jaime barely paid any mind to the battle before him, instead he laid the blanket over the body of his childhood friend, covering the evidence of the deathblow and deterioration from head to toe. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Jaime stood when he had finished and wordlessly loaded the gun with the shells he had shoved into his pocket. The gun had been his fathers, the shells the same. When the man had passed it had been inherited by his only son. Jaime had only shot it once when he was ten, resulting in a bruise so deep and dark on his shoulder he hadn't ever wanted to shoot it again. But now, he couldn't bring himself to care. The principles for shooting it were simple enough, and Jaime knew he probably wouldn't survive the fight anyhow. What was a few more bruises to add to the wounds that would undoubtedly ensue?

He took aim and shot at the shadows haphazardly, their screeches as they disintegrated his only reward. No one paid him much mind—what difference was one man with a gun going to make in the long run?

The guardians had begun to falter not long after Jaime had left the first time, blind rage and weakness taking their tole on the immortal warriors. Their most formidable foes were the shadows of other immortal creatures, North and Jack among them. It was North that finally had to deal the deathblow to "himself" and the shadow of the boy because none of the others could. The knowledge that it wasn't really them did little to quench the guilt.

Jaime took aim and shot at a shadow man that was getting the better of North. The guardian looked to him in shock when his opponent fell with a howl and a hole in its chest before his blue eyes grew sad and he turned away. Again, Jaime couldn't bring himself to care.

He continued to shoot, sometimes rescuing one of his childhood heroes, sometimes just shooting shadowmen for the heck of it. Slowly but surely, he moved away from the covered body of his friend, placing himself in the thick of battle with those whose jobs it was to protect his little ones. Soon his ammunition was exhausted and his gun discarded, one of North's scimitars the only replacement he was offered. He took it wholeheartedly, but it was far too heavy for him to wield effectively in battle and soon he found himself at the mercy of a particularly vengeful shadow with a broadsword. With North and the others in no position to come to his aid, Jaime resigned himself to death when his weapon had been knocked from his hands and the sword raised with the intent of cleaving him from stem to stern. He felt a little sick, that was all, when he heard the singing of the blade as it cut through the air. It wasn't that he was afraid of dying, it was that he knew that with this one strike he would cement the breaking of a very important promise and finalize his abandonment of the only thing that had ever been entrusted to him: fatherhood. With a little bit of sorrow, Jaime realized he was breaking the only promise he had ever made to Jack. Jack had made lots of promises over the years, and had kept every one, but he had been unable to keep even this, the simplest of promises, for more than half an hour. What a waste of life he was.

All of this he thought in the milliseconds that came between the swinging of the sword and the impending crunch it would make when it sank into his skull. But strangely, no such blow came—only a crackling and a low moan. Confused, Jaime looked up to find that the shadowman had been frozen solid.

Jaime had been so consumed with his last thoughts that he had failed to notice the frost creeping over the snow beneath his feet. He had been so distracted by his fight that he hadn't noticed a cocoon of ice forming on the edge of the battlefield. Didn't see as bones began to mend, tissues started to heal, and a strong chest brought in an equally strong breath. And so he didn't understand why his adversary was now naught but a statue and he was left with breath still in his lungs and a very rapidly beating heart. Couldn't seem to make it register than a young man with hair as white as snow was calmly walking through the thick of the battle, freezing shadowmen without even touching them, the white, frosty mist at his feet delivering the deathblows. His eyes burnt white, shocks of frosty blue shining through when seen from an angle.

As the creatures began to comprehend what was killing them in such large numbers, they moved out of his reach and began to attack their other enemies with fervor. The man formed long, simple icicles in his hands, growing them and throwing them with mechanical ease. The victims of those icicles found themselves not only impaled but infected with a frost that consumed them in seconds. Frost ferns spread unchecked from his unclad toes.

Soon there was nothing left to fight, and the man turned his attention to the woman who had watched her pets be destroyed without a single threat or battle cry. She had watched it all with deadly lips pressed tight and face an ashen grey. The man's ascent to her perch was accomplished seamlessly and without the aid of any conduit. The wind swirled around its wielder, blowing the white hair away from the eyes that glowed and lifting him like he weighed no more than a flurry of snow. The little bit of mist Morrígan had retained began to freeze the moment he made contact with its tendrils. Past the layer of ice, it couldn't touch him.

With one hand the man gripped the staff and with the other he pulled Morrígan towards him, touching his lips to hers. Even from a distance, Jaime could see the Celtic witch's eyes go wide with fear as ice began to flow through her. She could do little more than squeak before the ice consumed her fully. She had frozen so solidly that when she hit the ground from a height of two stories the ice didn't so much as shudder. Any remaining shadowmen dissolved with a gentle sigh, the rest shattering in their ice cases.

White-eyes turned to glare at the Nightmare King as flurries of snow whipped about dangerously and biting ice rode the wind like laughter. Pitch pleaded pitifully over the screeching wind, his cries for mercy intermingled with sobs as he collapsed at the unclad feet of the being who could kill him in an instant.

Suddenly the wind died down and the snow settled about them. In a voice so soft yet so familiar, the white haired youth informed the ousted King that unlike Morrígan, his fear was a necessary tool for the betterment of mankind. A tool used for evil, yes, but it allowed for the existence of free will and the option to choose life beyond that fear to be offered. And with that he banished the nightmare king back to the shadows, all of his nightmares destroyed and his power drained.

Silence settled over the battlefield with the departure of the instigator, leaving the guardians with their strange, yet familiar savior. As the last of the storm dissipated, the man's white eyes lost their glow, reverting to a very recognizable ice blue. Jack Frost stood before his companions and smiled. Gone were his gunnysack pants and bright blue hoodie, and gone was his painfully thin stature and awkward youth. Instead he was clad in a pair of white linen pants that were tailored to sit just at mid calf and a tunic that was belted with a swath of fabric that shimmered like the moon itself. A cape hung from one of his broad shoulders, a cord and frost fern brooch held it in place.

Frost clung to the new ensemble, but it wasn't the leech like ice that stole his breath, it was soft, excitable frost that seemed to advance and recede with his breaths. It flexed as he did and decorated him in the garb of winter.

His feet were bare (some things never change), and the kindness that graced his not so unfamiliar features harmonized perfectly with the fun that was permanently set within his eyes. Yes he had aged, but not unbearably so. Now his stature was of a man in his late teens to early twenties, old enough to gain respect but young enough to suit the purpose he had been sent back for. Mirth glistened in his gaze as Toothiana approached him, the others following along a little ways behind.

"How did Manny send you back? He told us you were gone…" She asked, running her delicate hands along the line of his jaw. She couldn't find it within herself to look him in the eye. Not yet. He took her hands in his, hands that now created no frost just as easily as it expelled it and lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

Jack smiled again. "The Man in the Moon was not given permission to return me this time." He held his hands out to the others drawing them into an embrace to prove his existence. Bunny noticed through the tears that clouded his vision that Jack was still wearing the wrist guards he had sent him for Christmas.

"Who vould hold such power over Man in Moon?" North asked with eyes filled with wonder.

Another smile, bigger this time than before preceded Jack's response. "Manny only follows the instructions given to him by his Maker. A Maker whose use for the Guardians of Childhood is not yet finished, might I add."

Sensing a lack of understanding on the part of his comrades, Jack realized that it would take them time to understand that which came so easily to a child. For beings who spent so much time thinking about children and depending on their belief, they still needed quite a bit more time to comprehend the merits of believing like the little ones they swore to protect. Only time would tell if they would ever be able to grasp that ideal.

Blue eyes scanned the faces of his friends, searching for injuries and finding plenty. His gaze finally landed on Jaime. The man stood at the back of the pack, unable to look Jack in the eye; he was trembling.

"Jaime," Jack called. He looked over the man before him. Eyes downturned and gloved hands absently grasping at the hem of his jacket, Jaime was overcome by shock and guilt. Jack allowed the wind to lift him closer. "Jaime, look at me."

Brown eyes met blue. "I'm sorry," Jaime whispered.

"For what? Breaking a promise or almost getting yourself killed?"

"Both I guess," Jaime mumbled. Jack grinned his crooked grin.

"Since I'm obviously not dead, you're somewhat off the hook. Good thing too, you almost lost your head there for a minute."

"I need to keep better track of it, I suppose."

Jack snorted and pulled Jaime into a wintry embrace. Jaime clung to Jack for a few moments, hands twisted in his shirt, his cape. With a chuckle he realized the blanket he had laid over the body was the cape that now hung from his friend's shoulders.

"How much do you remember?" Jaime asked, his voice muffled by the cape. Jack was finally tall enough to nearly match him in height.

"Everything," Jack replied simply. "Everything."

They stood there in that fashion for quite some time before separating, each and every one of them in awe of what had transpired. When the time came to leave, Jack walked Jaime back, staying at the house just long enough to see Greg and Sarah before returning to his friends. Upon returning, he piled them all into the sleigh, wrapping wounds with ripped sacks and comforting them with promises of a brighter future. By the time they were all settled and in the sky, it was well past noon and every child in Burgess got a good long look at Santa's sleigh with Jack Frost at the reigns. It would be the talk of the town's under fifteen population for weeks to come.

It didn't take long to reach the pole, at Jack's command the wind increased its currents and smoothed out the turbulence. Not once did he require the staff. Upon arrival, the pole was thrown into a flurry of activity, Jack and the yetis doing their best to patch up their friends. Thankfully, none of the injuries were life threatening and by nightfall they were all recuperating in guest rooms. Jack found after much experimentation that he was most comfortable sprawled out on the top of the couch and that was where Tooth found him, fast asleep, the following morning. She was on foot while she rested her wings, one of which was still wrapped at the joint to keep it steady from the impact wound she had received. She ended up with some fractures and a nasty bruise, but it could have been much worse.

She smiled when she saw him; his face was smushed up in the pillow as always and he was knee deep in a golden dream. She knew Sandy must already be up and about. Jack had changed his clothes, the linen pants, tunic, belt and cape folded up on the side table in favor of a loose fitting tee and a pair of thin, brown pants. His back lifted with a breath drawing attention, not to ribs that should not have been showing, but to the layer of sinewy muscle that was stretched between his shoulders. Seeing him now, Tooth realized he hadn't changed all that much, three years maximum plus the potential of a life full of nutritious meals and regular exercise was all that had changed. No longer scrawny, still a little lanky, and very much still a child. Tooth could only wonder what havoc he was going to wreak when he was no longer the responsible party.

But something had changed in him other than his appearance with this latest chance at life. There was a maturity in the face of adversity and a wisdom where there had been none before, and somehow, Tooth knew he was being groomed for leadership. Whether in a few years or in a few centuries she realized someday Jack Frost would stop being the baby of their family and become its head.

He sighed contentedly in his sleep before trying to roll over and finding he had run out of couch. He hit the floor with a yelp and a bang. Tooth was by his side in an instant helping him up and bombarding his still sleepy mind with a barrage of questions.

"Jack Frost! How many times do I have to tell you to not sleep like that! We have beds for a reason, thank goodness you weren't on the rafters this time, oh I shudder to think what a fall from that height could do to your teeth! Are you alright?"

Jack just looked at her with a puzzled expression on his very sleepy face before laughing at her and standing up to head for the kitchen. She followed along behind him, waking up half the workshop with her ranting. Just because he was being groomed didn't mean he wasn't still a little rough around the edges, and Tooth was determined to baby him until the second he no longer needed her to. After all, what were guardians for?

**Phew! It's been quite the marathon, I'll tell ya that! My ending was a little risky, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it even if you didn't quite feel satisfied with it. There will be an epilogue up sometime this week, hopefully sooner than later, but along with your normal reviews if you all could just tell me whether you would like to see a drabble series (with commissions and longer arcs of course) or another chapter fan fiction it will help me choose what to write next. Thank you all once again, it's been an amazing ride!**

**Saved by Grace**


	20. Chapter 20: Epilogue

**Authors Note: Well here it is, Ladies and Gentlemen, the final chapter of Immortal! It's been a wonderful ride and I can't thank you all enough for your support! I honestly didn't think I would ever write a fan fiction again after I stopped last time, but you all gave me the drive to finish a story, just for you! Many thanks to the reviewers of the last chapter! Shout outs to:**

**TaylorRose16: Thank you so much for the review and for sticking with this story! Sorry it went a little fast, I guess I got a little over excited and didn't want to drag it out too long lol (:**

**Guest: Thanks for the suggestion!**

**Bug349: Thanks so much! I really liked the outfit too and thank you so much for all your support! **

**Peanut Butter Rules: YOU'RE WELCOME! It was a long time coming!**

**John Smith: Glad I kept you on your toes! I wanted to make sure that the ending was unique but that it didn't leave Jack lacking in those qualities we all know and love him for! I just might do a little something on Morrígan and Pitch, I'll have to think about that one! Thanks again for all your support!**

**Rezzkat: Gosh girl this is why I love you so much! I love reading your reviews and I so hope you'll stick with me on this next story! Here's the epilogue and I can't wait to hear from you on the next story! Thanks again!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians**

_Where we left off:_

_He sighed contentedly in his sleep before trying to roll over and finding he had run out of couch. He hit the floor with a yelp and a bang. Tooth was by his side in an instant helping him up and bombarding his still sleepy mind with a barrage of questions. _

"_Jack Frost! How many times do I have to tell you to not sleep like that! We have beds for a reason, thank goodness you weren't on the rafters this time, oh I shudder to think what a fall from that height could do to your teeth! Are you alright?"_

_Jack just looked at her with a puzzled expression on his very sleepy face before laughing at her and standing up to head for the kitchen. She followed along behind him, waking up half the workshop with her ranting. Just because he was being groomed didn't mean he wasn't still a little rough around the edges, and Tooth was determined to baby him until the second he no longer needed her to. After all, what were guardians for? _

Chapter 20: Epilogue

"Jack, I don't think this is a good idea." Jaime was trying to reason with his icy friend, he really was, but when Jack got it in his head that he wanted to do something he was going to do it come hell or high water. This time at least it didn't include attempting high waters or hell's hag. No, this time Jack had taken on a much more dangerous call to arms: convincing Rachael that he existed.

"Well then it's a good thing it's not your idea!" Jack laughed and turned back to his snowball fight with Greg and Sarah. It hadn't taken them long to warm up to Jack's altered appearance though it still seemed to throw Jaime for a loop. "Besides, it can't hurt to try!"

"Yes it can!" Jaime insisted.

Jack scoffed. "How?"

"She already thinks we're all off our rockers, all she needs to hear is me telling her to really concentrate on that empty spot over there then she'll see Jokul Frosti and Santa Claus doing the cha cha to try and institutionalize me."

"Well I can assure you there will be no cha cha involved, and if she already thinks you guys are batty what's one bold attempt going to change?"

"Fuel to the fire, Jack, its like waving a match in front of gasoline."

"Glad she's not here to hear you saying that—ow!" Jack winced as Greg landed a beautifully thrown hit on his ear. "Don't hit your elders!" He yelled before pelting the back of the boy's coat. Truth be told, Rachael had been beside herself with worry over the events of Christmas day since the moment Greg had come in sobbing that Jack was dead with her deranged husband in tow. Jaime had left with a shotgun in hand, came back bloody and without Jack, but kept telling Greg and Sarah that Jack was back and everything would be all right again. But of course when she confronted him about it he just said Jack went back to live with his father. Finally she just threw up her hands and tried to tune the whole disaster out. Unfortunately, Jack's disappearance had been weighing heavily on her mind and the Guardian of Fun knew it. He felt bad for leaving like he did, never being able to say goodbye, and he wanted to try and rectify it as best he could.

For his part, Jack had spent the better part of the last three days caring for his recuperating friends and running their headquarters in their absence. It had been strange at first, seeing him take on such responsibility without a qualm or hiccup, but after a while they began to see more of his old qualities show through. Yes his maturity had grown and his sense of justice, power and responsibility had been heightened, but as the Guardian of Fun he just couldn't pass up three days worth of opportunities to pester Bunnymund half to death and back again. Poor Aster was practically bedridden with a nasty axe wound to his leg that had required three layers of stiches to close and Jack seemed intent on trying to send him to an early grave instead of an early recovery.

North and Sandy found it all to be quite amusing, and the guardians as a whole had been behind Jack's idea to bring Rachael into their little circle of believers from the first moment he had mentioned it. Whether it was just blanket support of any rebellious idea that wouldn't get him stabbed again or genuine belief in his persuasive skills he didn't know, but at that point he honestly just didn't care. He was going to get one more believer by the end of the day one way or another.

Jack soon grew tired of watching Jaime pace and chew his lip and just pushed him into a snow bank and slipped into the house. Rachael was bundled up in the easy chair by the fire, sipping tea and reading a book. She looked more content than she had in days. It was now or never.

Jack took a step forward before he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Jaime had poked his head—still a little snowy from his impromptu face plant—into the house, his mouth taught with stress and worry.

"Hey, its me! What could go wrong?" Jack said with a grin and ducked under the hand.

"Exactly, its you! What couldn't go wrong?" Jaime whispered back.

"Jaime, I sure hope you're not talking to me," Rachael called from across the room. Her eyes were full of worry. Jaime looked like a deer in the headlights.

"Come on, Jaime," Jack prodded. "You're embarrassing me!"

Jaime shot his friend a look as Greg and Sarah piled into the condo, cheeks ruddy from playing so long in the cold.

"Jack, what are you doing in the house?" Greg asked.

"Greg, who are you talking to?" Rachael asked. "Jack left three days ago."

"Yeah," Greg replied. "Then he came back."

Rachael sighed and closed the book. "Honey, I know you miss him, we all do. But pretending he's here isn't going to help, it just makes it harder to let go."

"Mom, he's here. Jack's here and he's got all his powers back!"

"What in the—" Rachael stammered as she glanced up at Jaime. He looked like he was about to throw up. "Powers?" her voice was strained.

"Mommy," Sarah insisted. "Jack's real!"

"Well of course he is, sweetheart," Rachael responded, not quite seeing the correlation between her image of Jack and the Jack standing in her living room. "But he's not here."

"Yes he is!" Sarah insisted. "You just can't see him, Mommy!"

"Alright! I give up!" Rachael threw her arms up in the air. "I'm done playing these games. Jaime, either end this game you've got our kids entrenched in before it gets seriously out of hand or I will!"

"Rachael," Jaime said gently. "They're telling the truth."

Rachael huffed, her patience growing thin.

"Jack, if you can wipe that smirk off your face long enough to do something—_anything—_it would be helpful!" Jaime was pleading under his breath, hands wringing his hat and sweat already beginning to bead on his skin. Jaime watched as Jack bent down and touched the floor. A shock of frost shot out across the rug, freezing the edge of one of Rachael's socks. She yelped and jumped back, grasping her foot with both hands as she stared at the frost covering her carpet.

"J—Jaime what's going on?" She asked, voice hushed. "What's in our house?"

Jaime rushed forward and held onto his wife, leading her to the floor a good ways from the frost. "It's alright, baby," He whispered and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "I know it's a shock, but its time you knew."

"Knew what?" She snapped, eyes never leaving the frost. Suddenly the ground iced over again and words began to appear, drawn by the icy finger by the bringer of frost himself.

_ Hi Rachael. _

She screamed. Screamed and grabbed onto her husband with a vice grip.

"Baby, it's Jack. Our Jack. Our kids Jack, my Jack from when I was I kid."

"No its not!" Her voice was trembling. "This is something else and I want it out! Now!"

"Rachael, I need you to trust me, okay?"

She shook her head.

"Baby, please."

Again she said no.

"I need you to believe in me, just for a few minutes. Can you do that for me, Rachael?"

Finally she nodded.

"Great," Jaime said, smile wide. Jack began to speak and Jaime repeated the words Rachael's unopened ears could not hear.

"I need you to remember—"

"I need you to remember—"

"What it was like when you were a kid."

"What it was like when you were a kid."

"When you opened presents from Santa,"

"When you opened presents from Santa,"

"Hunted for eggs on Easter,"

"Hunted for eggs on Easter,"

"And left your teeth for the Tooth Fairy."

"And left your teeth for the Tooth Fairy." Jaime paused. "Can you do that, Rachael?"

Again she nodded, and with quivering lips she closed her eyes and tried with all her might to remember. Remember the feeling she had when she woke up from a good night's sleep and rubbed the sand from the corners of her eyes. Remember the joy of seeing a coin where a hollow tooth once lay. Recall the elation of finding more eggs than all of her friends combined. Recollect the feeling of pent up energy on Christmas morning when you see piles of presents that had not been there the day before. The scent of winter on the air as the wind sang and the clouds opened their treasure chests and shared the snow they bore.

And when Jack felt that trust, that desire to remember, he released one very special snowflake, and sent it on a gentle breeze towards her closed eyes. The moment it touched her, the wall of adulthood that had been built so many years ago to keep out the hurt as well as the joy of faith without bounds, was broken. In poured, not the memories, but the feelings of elation that went along with them and with that deluge came the missing puzzle pieces that kept her from remembering.

And when she felt that feeling of childhood joy, relived all those memories, she opened her eyes and saw him. Saw the barefoot youth crouching on her rug, staring at her with wide, soulful eyes, a grin spread across his face. Saw the blue hoodie she both abhorred and adored, saw the fitted pants, the pale skin, startlingly white hair, and strangers face and _somehow _she knew it was her Jack. Maybe it was the way his nose turned up at the end, like it was searching for trouble. Possibly it was the mischief that sparked in his eyes and smile. But at that moment, she didn't care what it was that caused her to know. Only that it did and more importantly, she did.

"Jack?" She whispered as her children cheered. It was Jack's special gift to his surrogate mother; the gift of belief.

"Hey, Rachael!" Jack replied, mouth still twisted up in that crazy grin. "It's been a while."

"Yes. Yes it has. So you're…"

"Jack Frost, yes." He laughed.

"Well, that certainly explains some things."

"Yes, I suppose it does." He laughed again and settled back on his haunches. The staff lay lazily against the wall, unneeded yet not unwanted. Conduit or not, it was a piece of him three hundred years in the making and that made it worth every splinter he had to repair and string of black gunk he still managed to find in its notches.

"So I housed Jack Frost for two weeks then?"

"Yes, yes you did. And you did a wonderful job of it, I didn't get into nearly as much trouble as I usually do."

"This is true," Jaime cut in. "He's responsible for most my not so shining moments in the art of shenanigans and schemes."

Rachael frowned at him indignantly before turning back to Jack. He laughed at that too.

"So then why were you not…Jack Frost…when you were living with us?"

"Long story short, I lost immortality and memory. Got it back, epic fight, Jaime was in it, yada yada yada…"

"Wait what?"

"I'll fill you in someday when you didn't just have the whole realm of immortality dumped on you at once."

"Humph." She paused for a moment before crossing her arms. "Then did you two just make up Nicholas and his family to keep up that charade or is he real too?"

Jack laughed. "No Saint Nicholas himself really did pawn his mortal kid off on you guys."

"You mean Santa?"

"The one and only."

Her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh gosh. The house was such a mess when he came!"

The whole room couldn't help but laugh, Rachael's indignant look doing nothing more than sending Jack and Jaime into fits.

"Oh, Rachael," Jaime finally managed to say when he had wiped the tears from his eyes. "It'll be so great not to have to tiptoe around you anymore!"

"Tiptoe! Jaime Bennett you're about as subtle as a freight train! You've been talking about Jack for years and up until ten minutes ago I thought you were off your rocker!"

"Alright, alright!" Jack said, letting the wind from the cracked door lift him front the floor. He hovered above the rug for a few moments, smiling smugly at Rachael's dubious expression. "Enough chit chat, it's hot in here and I'm going outside one way or another!"

Jack reached down and picked Sarah up before flying out the door.

"Whoa, whoa, what do you think you're doing?" Rachael stood up, arms crossed and she walked across the room and out onto the porch

"Uh, going for a ride?"

"A ride?"

"Yeah, be back soon!" Jack turned to leave, but a hand on his ankle kept him anchored to the ground.

"Not on your life!"

"I'll be careful with her!"

Rachael seemed to think for a minute.

"Aww Rachael, he took me out hundreds of times over the years when he was still scrawny and I survived," Jaime said, joining them out in the cold.

"Hey!"

"Face it, Jack, you were like a toothpick blowing around in the wind. But that's beside the point, she's perfectly safe, honey."

"Not without a helmet!" Rachael spun on her heel after ordering Jack to stay put and walked into the house. She returned a few minutes later holding two bike helmets.

"Uh, I can only take one at a time, Rachael. Greg's gotta wait."

"This one isn't for Greg," Rachael replied. "It's for you."

"For me?!" he sputtered. "Rachael, I'm three hundred and twenty years old! I don't need a helmet!"

Rachael stood there calmly and buckled Sarah's helmet before putting one hand on her hip and holding the other helmet out with one finger. "And how many head injuries have you had in those three hundred years?"

Jack's face screwed up for a moment and he set Sarah down. He counted silently for a few seconds. "I count nine and I think there was a few more, I just can't remember them. But nine give or take in three hundred years is like a super good record! Do you know now many head injuries North has had?"

"I don't care how good of a record you think you've got, nine concussions and only God knows what other injuries over three hundred years is enough to give any mother a heart attack. You're wearing the helmet, no buts about it."

Jack scoffed. "I'm the Guardian of Fun and the Master of Winter, I do not need a helmet."

But ten minutes and a loud argument later he was flying low over the forest, Sarah strapped to him with one of Jaime's belts, and a bright blue helmet buckled to his head. Like a beacon of nerd bringing jeerers from a radius of two hundred miles or more. If Bunnymund ever saw him like that he would never _ever_ live it down.

But the little girl laughing and squealing in his arms as he flew made it all worth it. She and the countless other children, whether they believed in him or not, were the reason he endured all that he endured and survived to tell the tale. Because waking up each day to all those smiling little faces was enough to make him do it all over again. They were worth it, and one laugh, one smile, no matter how small, was worth dying for. Was worth _living_ for.

**And there it is! THE END! It's bittersweet for me, I almost didn't want it to end, but I have so many other stories floating around in my head I think it was time! Thank you again to all you readers, favoriters, followers, and reviewers! It's been an amazing ride and I hope you will all join me for my next story! I decided to do a one shot series and I will start taking commissions right now! If I like your idea I just might use it for the premier chapter (with credit to you of course!) Shoutouts for this chapter will be given in the first chapter of the one shot series, so look for your names there! Can't wait to hear from you all!**

**Saved by Grace**


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